Promise script and heart on a finger
Lettering · Hand · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of a hand with the word Promise written in black cursive script across the side of one finger, with a small outlined heart to its left. The linework is fine and even, with no shading, and the ink appears slightly soft at the edges. The composition is tight on the hand, with another hand holding it from below and rings visible on fingers at the top of the frame.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit nearer the lamp, the oil's low and I'm not telling this twice. Yes, you've heard the version where the sea takes somebody. That's a different street. This one is about two girls on the canal steps at Stanhope Lock, the winter the water froze so hard the coal barges couldn't turn.
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Nell and Ruthie Carrow swore on that cold stone that whoever went first would send word every Sunday, no excuses. Ruthie took the night train north with one trunk and a bottle of blue-black ink she'd nicked from the post office. Before she left, she wrote PROMISE along the side of Nell's middle finger with a steel nib, slow and careful, and dotted a little heart beside it. "So you've got it in your hand," she said, "even when the post doesn't."
The post did not come. Not the first Sunday, nor the sixth. Nell walked the towpath each night to count the lamps on the railway bridge, and each morning she rubbed at the word to see if it had faded, which it had not, because the ink had gone under the skin and stayed there. The lock-keeper's wife felt sorry for her and said nothing. That was the trouble, because she was the one who had been keeping the letters behind the clock since October.
On the eleventh Sunday the clock stopped at a quarter to four, and the woman finally took it down. The envelope was soft as cloth. Inside, Ruthie had written three lines and a date, and at the bottom, another small heart. I'm coming back with the thaw. Don't you dare stop counting the lamps, you daft thing. Nell read it twice by the stove, then went out onto the steps in her stockings to look at the bridge, and the lamps were all still burning.
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