Black script lettering of a four-line quote tattooed across the inner wrist and lower forearm.

Script quote across the inner wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a four-line quote in black cursive script tattooed across the inner wrist and lower forearm. The linework is clean and even, filled in with solid black ink and no visible shading. The background is a blurred kitchen counter and a few out-of-focus objects.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Pell kept the brass bell over the front door polished so every lodger could hear it coming, and she kept her opinions the same way. "Don't you worry your head about the Sawyer boys," she said, pressing a thimble of vinegar into my palm for the window of Room Four. "People throw rocks at things that shine, love. Keep your buttons done up and your hair pinned flat and they'll leave you be."

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I did not believe her. I had come to Saltbeck in October with one suitcase and a locket my mother had sold the week before she died, and the only thing I owned that caught the light was the sea glass I kept in a jam jar on the sill. Green, mostly, with a few clouded white pieces like old teeth. I had gathered every one myself, down the shingle below the groyne, and I counted them each night the way other girls said their prayers.

On the Sunday the jar went missing. I found it in the scullery sink, smashed, the glass ground to a grit of green and white, and Mrs Pell standing beside it with her hands folded over her apron. She did not look sorry. She looked like someone who had been expecting it for years.

I swept every shard into my handkerchief and walked down to the groyne as the light went. The tide was turning. I threw the whole bundle as far as my arm would reach, and the sea took it without a sound. Behind me the boarding house windows were lighting up one by one, and in the last of them I could see Mrs Pell at her sink, rubbing the brass bell until it shone.

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