Black and white photo of a small fine line tattoo of two hands reaching towards each other on the inner forearm.

Two reaching hands on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a small tattoo of two hands with the fingers of one reaching towards the other, drawn in thin dark outlines. The fingers and knuckles are picked out with light hatching and short strokes that give the hands some shape and shadow. The black and white image is taken at an angle against a dark background, with the tattoo placed centrally on a pale forearm.

Fine line Forearm Hand Finger Outline

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The Foxwhelp had split in the August gales, and by the third afternoon Aunt Edie had decided to graft the limb back rather than lose the whole tree. She knelt in the wet grass with a flask of cold tea and a reel of green tape, and Tomas held the scion the way she had shown him, cut end down, waiting to be told.

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The trick, she said, was the cambium, that thin pale skin just under the bark. It had to line up on both sides or nothing would take. 'It doesn't need to be perfect,' she said, pressing the wood with her thumb. 'Only touching.' Over the hedge a blackbird went off like a dropped kettle, and somewhere beyond the wall a radio was playing the cricket.

The wall was the trouble. It ran between Edie's orchard and the Pryce place, and nobody had crossed it in a friendly way since the year of the flood, when Gwyn Pryce had claimed the Ansell trees had drowned his. Tomas never learnt what the argument was really about, only that his father would not say the Pryces' name at supper.

Then Owen Pryce came up the lane with a ladder on his shoulder, looking for a ferret that had got out. He stopped at the gap in the stones. Edie did not look up. She just held out the tape, and after a long moment he leaned over the wall and took the end, and their fingers met in the air above the graft. Tomas wound it round twice, the way he had been taught, and nobody mentioned the wall again.