Colour tattoo of a suited figure with folded arms standing on a plinth beside a large dollar sign, on a man's upper arm.

Suited figure and dollar sign on upper arm

Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A standing figure in a suit with folded arms stands on a stepped plinth, with a large orange dollar sign above and a green-tinted figure and smoky shading to the left. The linework is bold, with soft airbrushed shading and blended yellow, orange and green tones. Solid black vertical bars run down the right side, framing the composition across the upper arm and shoulder.

Upper arm Shoulder Dollar sign Smoke Man Bar

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bronze was still ticking as it cooled when Ruth Haskell pulled back the tarpaulin, and the foundry men had gone for their dinners, so it was only her and the statue in the yard behind Varley and Sons. Mr Varley had first ordered him in marble, then changed his mind, because marble, he said, looked like a man who had died owing money. The figure stood with his arms folded across his waistcoat and his eyes fixed on the plinth, as though the whole town had been his idea.

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Ruth had modelled the face from a photograph of the bank's founder, and she had done it too well. Pell Street said the eyes followed you down the hill. Beyond the yard wall the mill chimneys had been cold for a week, the price of coal having gone up again, and the men who had lost their shifts stood at the gate with their caps in their hands, watching the gilt sign being hauled up on its rope above the square. Nobody asked Ruth what she thought, which suited her, because she thought the sign was a lie with good manners.

The unveiling was set for Saturday. On Friday night she climbed the plinth with a tin of black paint and a fine brush, and she did not touch his eyes. She painted the bars that ran up the back of the pedestal, the tall black stripes the council had insisted on for the gateposts, so that anyone standing in the square would see him framed like a man in a police photograph.

Saturday came grey and still. When the cloth fell, the crowd gasped at the gleam, and the mayor made a speech about prosperity. Ruth stood at the back with her hands in her coat pockets and watched the chimney smoke drift across the square, sliding over the plinth until it covered his shoes and then his knees, so that from the road he looked like a man wading out of something he had not yet decided to leave.