Fine line anchor tattoo on the side of a finger, shown in a close-up photo of a hand against a dark blue background.

Small anchor on a finger

Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo

A small anchor is drawn on the side of one finger, with a thin, even outline and a simple shaft and crossbar. The ink looks pale and light against the skin, and the skin around it is slightly pink. The tattoo sits near the centre of the frame, with the other fingers and a blurred dark background framing it.

Fine line Hand Anchor

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ivy Marsh had the Pier Pavilion to herself by six, which suited her fine. The sprung boards gave under the foxtrot, the tide slapped the iron legs below, and Mr Gale, the caretaker, swept sawdust into a heap beside the upright piano without once looking up. She counted under her breath, slow, quick, quick, and kept her eyes off the salt-blurred windows where the Channel was going grey.

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Stanley Oake was late, as he always was on a Thursday. He crewed the Maud Lily out of Dungeness and came up the pier stairs smelling of diesel, and he had taken to marking himself with small things for luck: a bit of twine round his wrist, a pencil stub behind his ear. Last month he had come in with a little anchor drawn on the side of his forefinger, done with a borrowed needle in a back room by the harbour. 'So I never lose the thread,' he'd said, which Ivy had thought the most romantic thing a man had ever said to her over a pint of bitter.

The Thursday came and went. Ivy waited through the first waltz with her gloves in her lap, then through the second. At quarter to eight Mr Gale switched off the lamps over the piano and said, not unkindly, that the tide would not wait for anybody, least of all a dancer. She picked up her coat and went to the door.

On the top step a figure was wrestling with the rail, sea-wet and hatless, one hand held out flat as if to steady himself. Stanley looked up at her with the anchor pale on his finger. 'Tide's turned,' he said. 'Dance me down to the bottom and I'll tell you the rest.' She took his hand, and they went down the pier together, counting one, two, slow.