Black and grey realism tattoo of a woman with red lips, roses, rolled banknotes and a building on an upper arm.

Portrait, roses and banknotes on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A large realistic portrait of a woman with wavy hair and red lips fills the upper part of the arm, with a chain and a tall building on the left. Below her, roses and rolled banknotes are shaded in fine grey tones with strong contrast and soft blending. Only the lips carry colour, so the piece is almost entirely black and grey against the warm skin tone.

Realism Upper arm Portrait Woman Rose Banknote Money Chain Building Clock

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The clock over Harker's Pawn struck four while Nell was still counting the rolls of notes on the counter, licking her thumb at each one because Mr Dacre said a lick was quicker than a machine and cheaper than a mistake. Outside, rain had been working at the brick face of the tower opposite since noon. Nobody in Lantern Street looked up at the clock any more. They looked at the window, where a woman in a grey photograph smiled above a sign reading WE BUY ANYTHING OF VALUE.

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The chain came in at half past four, wrapped in a handkerchief. A man in a camel coat set it down like a bet he already regretted. "My mother's," he said. "She wore it to the dance hall before the war." Nell weighed it, turned it under the lamp, and saw the clasp was newer solder than the links. She said nothing about it. She offered forty pounds, he asked for sixty, and they settled on the figure neither of them wanted.

After he left, Dacre came through from the back with a jam jar in one hand and a fresh roll of notes in the other. The rose in the jar came from the florist who shut at five. She had paid for a watch repair in cash and then, to be generous, left the flower on the step. Dacre looked at the rose, then at the clock, then at the chain on the counter.

"Put the chain in the drawer," he said. "We keep what people can't bear to sell, and we sell what they can't bear to keep. Tonight the rose is ours." Nell wrapped the stem in the handkerchief. When the shutters came down, the tower struck five, one minute early, as it had done every evening since Dacre first hung the portrait on the wall.