Small colour tattoos of lettuce, corn, tomato, carrots, strawberry, grapes and apple, one on each finger of two hands.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Small fruit and vegetable tattoos on fingers

Hand · Colour · Photo

Eight small tattoos sit on the fingers of two hands, arranged in two rows. The top row shows lettuce, corn on the cob, a tomato and carrots, and the bottom row shows a strawberry, two bunches of grapes and a green apple. Each motif has dark outlines with shading and bright colour fills in greens, reds, yellows and purples.

Hand Strawberry Apple Fruit Vegetable

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The lettuce went first, which was my fault. Nobody buys a lettuce on a Saturday unless the gulls have been at the bins, and the gulls had been at Mr Arkell's bins since Easter. He wanted four heads for the lifeboat supper and he wanted them for nothing, so I told him the crate by the slipway was for the market and not for him, which was true. Then I wrapped the lettuce in yesterday's gazette anyway, because it was half past seven and the tide was already turning.

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My mother kept the stall the way she kept her accounts, in a grid. Corn in the front bucket with the husks peeled back like a shop window. Tomatoes in the blue tray, carrots tied in bunches with baler twine, grapes hung from the awning hook where the wasps could admire them and not get at them. Every evening she counted the stock on her fingers, touching each thumb to each fingertip as though the produce might answer back, and every evening the total came out one short. She never found the missing item. She said it was the sea taking its tithe.

The missing thing turned out to be a green apple, and the thief was Owen Tregear, sixteen, who had come up from the boats with salt in his hair and a bag of scallops he wanted to swap. I told him a scallop was not a currency. He said his nan used to trade with a man from a cart for apples, and she had never once been short-changed. I found I believed him, which annoyed me more than the apple.

I let him keep it. The next Saturday he came back with a tin of paraffin and a crate of herring, and I chalked the swap on the slate under my mother's neat columns: one apple, paid in full. Her ledger had no column for that, so I drew one myself, and left the wasps to count the rest.