Painted traditional-style flash of a pin-up woman with red roses, a polka dot headscarf and a heart banner, shown on paper.

Pin-up woman with roses flash

Traditional · Colour · Flash

The drawing shows a pin-up woman with dark pompadour hair, red-lipped and wearing a drop earring, framed by two large red roses and a polka dot scarf. Bold black outlines, flat red and teal fills and soft shading give it a classic traditional feel. Smaller blue-line tattoos on her shoulder and chest include a rose, a heart with a banner and a small anchor, all set on a pale, mottled background.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bell over the door at Pryce and Daughter had not stopped since nine, and by eleven I had sold four hats, mended a veil and talked a sailor out of buying a parrot. Mother was at the back boiling the red dye for the silk roses, because the vinegar smell reassured customers that the shop had been there a long time and would be there longer.

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Lorna Haskins came in at half past eleven with her hair already set in the new wave, wanting something for the Saturday dance at the Guildhall. I had a scarf in the window, cream silk with plum dots the size of shirt buttons, and she wanted it at once. I told her it was spoken for. It was not spoken for. It was the last of the Japanese silk Dad had carried home from Southampton before his ship went to Chatham, and I had been saving it for myself.

She laughed and asked what I would take for it. I said a story. So she sat on the stool by the mirror and told me about Ray Dunstan, who had walked her home from the pictures, kissed her under the pier lamps and then sailed for Malta without a word. In her version he rowed back across the harbour in a borrowed dinghy. In mine, when I told it back to her, he was still standing on the quay with a paper bag of wilting roses, unable to decide which of the two of us he had come for.

She left wearing the scarf, knotted at the throat the way the film stars did it. Mother came out from the back, sniffed at the dye on her fingers and asked me what it had cost. I said nothing, and that was true, because the story had been free and I had only given away what I had never wanted to keep.

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