Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Watercolour compass rose on a shoulder
Shoulder · Mixed · Photo
A black-lined compass rose with dotted rings and the letters N, E, S and W sits at the centre of the design. Roman numerals run vertically above it, and the compass is surrounded by loose splashes of pink, blue, orange, yellow, purple and green. The composition is tightly framed on the upper shoulder, with a partly visible tattoo at the left edge.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Sit closer and mind the candle, for this is a wedding story, and wedding stories have a way of spilling. The bride at Saltmarrow that summer was Ada Penhale, and she had been promised to the ferryman's son, Joe Carne, since they were both small enough to share a bench at the chapel door. Nobody in the village could say what Joe had lost, only that he went down to the harbour wall every morning before the tide to look for it.
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On the wedding morning the church bell cracked, and the vicar sent a boy running for the lifeboat man, who came up the lane with his coat unbuttoned and a brass compass in his fist. "This was your grandfather's," he said, and pressed it into Joe's palm. The needle would not settle. It swung like a dog chasing its own tail, first to the sea, then to the chapel roof, then to the paint pots the painters had left spilt across the path in every colour a rainbow owns.
Joe shut his eyes and turned three times, the way his grandfather taught him to find a bearing in fog. When he opened them, the needle had stopped wavering and pointed straight up the lane at Ada, who was walking towards him in her mother's dress with blue ink on her fingers from the parish ledger she had been mending all night. Joe laughed so loudly that the vicar dropped his book.
They say the needle still points at her, which is why no Carne has ever sailed past the harbour wall for long. Every anniversary the boats go out with the tide, and Ada stands on the wall with paint on her fingers, waiting for the compass to come home.
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