Small pineapple on a finger
Fine line · Hand · Black and grey · Photo
A hand held up in a peace sign against a dark grey background shows a small pineapple tattoo on the side of the middle finger. The pineapple is drawn in thin black outline with a crosshatched grid across its body and a spiky crown on top. The ink is solid black with no shading or colour, and the small design is centred on the finger in a tight, simple composition.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mr Ashby kept his pineapples the way other men kept mistresses, under glass and at tremendous expense. Each spring the gardener at Hollin Park lit the tan-bark stoves at four in the morning, and each autumn the finished fruit went up to the dining room on a silver salver, was admired, was cut into eleven neat pieces, and was eaten by guests who had never once been asked to sweep the pinery floor.
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Tobias Crane had been under-gardener for six years and had never tasted one. He counted the crowns of the ripening fruit each evening the way a clerk counts coin. On the night before the Michaelmas dinner he counted only two. The third sat warm against his ribs beneath his waistcoat, a gold weight he carried past the frost-stiff cabbages and through the kitchen gate with the broken latch, and he did not stop walking until the lane had swallowed the lamplight of the house.
He never ate it. By dawn the fruit had gone soft in the damp of his coat, so he buried it under the hedge, but first he pressed a nail into its skin and scored a grid across the bulb, a row of tight diamonds, with a spiky crown picked out at the top. Two days later Mr Ashby found the empty crown on the stove shelf and turned the whole pinery upside down looking for a thief.
Years afterwards, in a Bristol back room lit by a paraffin lamp, Tobias rebuilt that small grid from memory in ink on a sailor's forearm for a penny. The sailor asked what it was. Tobias told him it was the sweetest thing he had ever carried, and for once it was not a lie.
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