Small black hand-lettered script reading never grow up on the outer upper arm of a woman in a teal t-shirt, in a black and grey lettering style.

Never grow up script on upper arm

Lettering · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A woman in a teal t-shirt stands against a pale wall, showing a small tattoo on the outer upper arm. The tattoo is a loose, hand-drawn script reading never grow up, set in solid black ink with slightly uneven strokes. The image is a well-lit, mid-body crop with the tattoo sitting in the lower right of the frame.

Lettering Upper arm Script Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dilys Pryce scraped the last of the porridge off the pan while the trawler rolled her shoulders against the swell, and Ned Carrow sat at the end of the bench with a bucket of potatoes between his boots, peeling as though the knife owed him money. He was fourteen and had signed on at Hull with a cap too big for his head. Every time a wave came over the bow he looked at the door as if it might be the sea come to fetch him back.

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"You'll be wanting to be a man by the spring," she said, not looking up. "Everyone does. Nobody tells you it's a poor trade."

He didn't answer. She tore a strip from the back of the bill of fare, wet a stub of carpenter's pencil on her tongue, and wrote in her square, unhurried capitals: NEVER GROW UP. Then she pinned it above the stove with a tin tack and went back to her pans.

In February a sea took the port rail and most of the galley's crockery, and the cabin lamp swung on its chain all night. Ned was lashing the hatch when he found the scrap of paper folded into the lining of his oilskin, soft as cloth from the damp. He read it twice, then read it again, and the ink had run where his thumb had been. He thought she had meant it as a joke about the cap. The stove was out, and the galley smelled of tar and burnt toast, and for the first time since Hull he laughed out loud on deck.