Close view of a black fine line script tattoo reading wholehearted across the stomach above the waistband, with a hand resting on the hip.

Wholehearted script tattoo on the stomach

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A woman wearing a pale lace bralette and a satin skirt shows a single line of black script across her stomach, reading wholehearted. The linework is thin and even, with no shading, and the lettering runs gently upward from left to right. The palette is neutral, with pale pink fabric, soft grey backdrop and the black ink, and the framing crops the image below the chin and above the knee.

Fine line Lettering Other Script Word Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mae had been steering the Wren up the Grand Union for three days before the rain eased enough to see the lock gates at Hatton. Water poured over the top paddles and ran down the balance beams, and the chamber filled with a noise like a goods train. She kept the tiller steady and her eyes on the gate, because her father had always said a boat wanted a steady hand more than a quick one.

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His name was still on the cabin side in red and gold leaf, and beneath it, in the thin italic a sign-writer in Braunston had taught him, was the word he had chosen for every boat he ever owned. Wholehearted. Customers took it for a boast. He told her once it was a set of instructions, the kind you could only follow by leaning into everything with your full weight, locks and winters and bad mooring rings alike.

Above the top gate the canal opened out, grey and flat, and the wind dropped as if someone had shut a door. Mae tied off at the water point and climbed onto the roof. Frost had lifted the paint along the W over the winter. She knelt on the wet planks, thinned a little gold size with turpentine in a jam jar, and worked the brush over each curl slowly, the way he had shown her, without rushing a single stroke.

When she had finished, the word looked nearly new. She stayed on the roof until the paint was dry enough to touch, then climbed down, lit the stove, and filled the kettle, humming the tune he used to hum whenever a lock finally let them through.