Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Ladybird tattoo on a foot
Realism · Other · Colour · Photo
A close-up of a ladybird tattoo on the foot, with the toes visible at the lower right against a plain black background. The beetle has a shaded red shell, black spots and a dividing line, and its legs and antennae are drawn in fine black linework. Soft gradients give the body a rounded, three-dimensional look against the skin tone.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Hettie found the ladybird on the rim of the enamel bath at half past six, red as a postbox and no bigger than a shirt button. She carried it out on the end of a hairpin before Mrs Gorse could come up the stairs with the mop and call it a pest. The landlady ran Saltern View like a ship: no wet towels on the banisters, no whistling after nine, no guests without a letter of introduction. Hettie thought ladybirds ought to be allowed a letter too.
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Her brother Ned had arrived the previous summer with only a cardboard case and a tin of barley sugar, and now he was leaving on the Thursday boat for Plymouth, where a rigging yard had taken him on. He sat on the harbour wall with his boots off, swinging his heels over the water. "Old Tom says if one lands on you, it's counting the spots that tells you how long till you see the person you miss," he said. "Go on, then. Count it."
Hettie counted seven black spots on the red shell and told him so. Ned pulled a face, said that was a long time, and asked whether ladybirds could read timetables. She did not answer him. She was watching the insect climb onto the back of her hand, lift its wing cases, and go off over the rooftops towards the sea without any sign of a letter at all.
That evening she pressed a spotted leaf from the wall into the back of Ned's tin, next to the last barley sugar, and wrote seven on the lid in pencil. He took it to the boat without comment, but he waved it at her from the rail until the harbour mouth swallowed him.
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