Saved by grace script on upper back
Lettering · Back · Black and grey · Photo
A close photograph of bare skin on the upper back, with a dark blue-black script tattoo reading Saved by grace running diagonally across the top right of the frame. The lettering has smooth, even strokes and the tattoo is the only ink visible. The composition is tightly cropped and slightly dim, with dark hair on the left and a green patterned garment at the bottom edge.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Dear Nell, I have put off writing since the Tuesday, because every time I sit down with the ink my hand goes to the wrong words. Walter says I am to stop fretting, that the 4.10 was never going to clear the Ferriby cutting before the signal dropped, and that he has told the inspector so twice. But I saw the lad, Nell. Eleven at most, cap pulled down to his eyebrows and a paper bag of chips in one fist, standing right on the lip of Platform Two as if the yellow line were only a rumour.
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The engine came round the bend with its lamp already lit, and Mrs Pargeter from the ticket office was shouting before I had properly understood what I was looking at. Then the boy was not on the platform any more. He was on the cinder path below, sitting up, holding his chips out in front of him as though somebody might want to check them for damage. The driver said afterwards that nobody could have stopped in that length, and Walter said that was a word for vicars. I said nothing. I had the boy's gran's name on my tongue and could not get it out.
Here is the strange part. When the ambulance men had gone and the crowd had thinned, I went down to the box to fetch Walter's tea and found the old brass plate from the lamp room lying face up on the desk. Somebody had been polishing it. Under the grime, cut in neat curling letters, was a motto: Saved by grace. Walter says the signalman before him put it there in 1931, the year his own boy was caught at the level crossing and lived. I did not know that. Nobody tells the wives anything.
I am taking the bus into Doncaster on Saturday to see the boy's gran. I shall take a fresh bag of chips, if he will still have them. Love to the girls, and tell Frank his pigeons are not welcome on my washing line. Your loving sister, Ivy.
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