Black script lettering reading Dance like nobody's watching runs across the top of a foot on a red and white bedsheet.

Script quote on the top of a foot

Lettering · Other · Black and grey · Photo

Black script lettering reads Dance like nobody's watching, running diagonally across the top of a bare foot towards the ankle. The thin, flowing strokes are shaded with a solid dark ink, with a larger capital D and slightly heavier letters. The pale skin, toes and red and white patterned bedding fill the rest of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The painted board above the Cakewalk said DANCE LIKE NOBODY'S WATCHING in gold letters that Mr Aldous redid every spring, and by August the paint had flaked until the last word looked more like a rumour. I was nine the summer I learned the organ. My uncle Teddy kept the steam organ on the Gallopers and let me work the bellows when the crowds thinned, which at Harbour Fields was never before the lamps came on.

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That was the summer Mrs Ashdown came every night. She bought one ticket for the Gallopers, stood by the organ with her handbag held against her chest, and waited for the waltzes. Uncle Teddy said she had danced the same steps on the same boards in 1952 with a man who went to sea and didn't come back. Nobody on the fair asked her about it. We just kept the tunes coming, and she kept turning slow circles in her good brown shoes while the men on the coconut shy pretended not to look.

On the last night the fair was packing up, the lorries already idling by the gate, she asked me if I was watching. I said I was. She laughed and said then she'd have to dance badly on purpose, and she did, a sort of lurching shuffle that made Teddy wipe his eyes with his sleeve. When the final bars ran out she pressed a tin of mother-of-pearl buttons into my hand and walked off towards the car park without looking back.

At dawn I climbed back onto the organ platform on my own and pumped the bellows for the empty field. The board creaked above me in the wind. Somewhere over the hedge the lorries were grinding away, and I played the waltz slowly, the way she liked it, while the gold letters flaked off into the grass.

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