Black script tattoo of the lyrics The girl was Bad and The girl was dangerous, with music notes and a red Bad accent, across the top of a foot.

Lyric script and music notes on a foot

Lettering · Other · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo covers the top of a foot with two lines of black cursive lettering that read The girl was and The girl was dangerous, with the word Bad set in red, larger and in a bolder letterform. Scattered around the lettering are music notes, including quavers, a flat sign and a clef-like symbol, all drawn in solid black. The ink is dense and even, and the photo is taken in warm lighting against a wooden floor.

Lettering Other Lyric Music note Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

I came in at ten to four, same as always, and found Dorothy already at the bench with flour to her elbows and the radio turned down to a murmur. A woman on the wireless was singing about someone who had caused trouble, and Dorothy was tapping the rhythm on the marble with two floury fingers, not quite in time.

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"Who's that?" I asked, tying my apron. "Nobody who's coming in," she said. "Knead." So I kneaded. The dough had come up cold from the walk-in and fought me until I learned to stop pushing and start leaning. Dorothy said that was true of most things worth having, then looked embarrassed, because she had been saying things like that since before I was born.

At half four she went to the back shelf and took down a tin that had once held shortbread. Inside were cuttings from the Gazette, a bus ticket, and a folded sheet in her mother's hand. "Nell," she said, and nothing else for a while. Nell had sung at the Co-op hall in 1961 with a band that played too loud, and the vicar had written to the paper that the girl was dangerous. Dorothy had been eleven and thought it the finest thing anyone had ever said about her sister.

We baked. At six the first light came grey over the car park and Dorothy took a stub of red chalk and wrote BAD across the top of the board above the tea cakes, big and loopy, then stood back with her hands on her hips. "Sell them the lot," she said. "Let the vicar come and see." I handed her the first tray, still warm, and she didn't hum after all. She just grinned.