Groom in a black suit with dark tattoos on his right forearm and hand, standing beside a bride in a beaded gown holding red and pink peonies.

Tattooed hand and forearm beside a peony bouquet

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close crop shows a groom in a black suit and white shirt with dark tattoos covering his right forearm and the back of his hand, with a gold wristwatch. Beside him, a bride in a cream beaded dress holds a bouquet of red and pink peonies with green foliage and small white flowers. The ink appears to be black and grey shading, and the composition is shot at street level against a grey wall and tarmac.

Forearm Hand Tattoo Wristwatch Suit

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Abernethy had been lifting peony roots since before the war, and she did not hold with men who handled a bloom as though it might bruise them. So when the young man from the city came up the lane in a borrowed car, asking for the pink double she called Duchess Ellen, she made him wait by the potting shed while she finished dividing the clump.

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"Took eleven years to come true," she said, not looking up. "You want it for a wedding, I suppose."

He said he wanted it for a woman who had once told him that peonies were just roses that had given up on being sensible. Mrs Abernethy snorted. She cut the crown with a spade, knocked the soil from the roots, and wrapped them in damp newspaper and a square of oilcloth.

"Keep it cool and keep it out of the sun," she said, pressing the parcel into his hands. "Peonies don't forgive a hot car. Plant it where it gets morning light and it will sulk for two years before it flowers. Then it will flower like it means it."

He drove back through the dusk with the parcel on the passenger seat and the heater switched off, as instructed. At the services near the motorway he lifted the oilcloth to check the roots and found a tag tucked beneath it, written in cramped capitals: WAIT. He laughed alone in the car, and understood that the instruction had never been about the plant. He planted it that week against the grey stone wall of the yard, watered it each evening, and waited for morning light.