Pippa & Davey Forever

As the condensation started to clear, Pippa peered at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and she caught sight of the blurred but still garish mark on her upper arm. The once-bright colour had faded long ago to an ugly blue-green. She allowed the fingers of her other hand to trace the blue-black outline that remained. The tattoo was so old and faded now, this was the only time she even remembered it was still there — when she glimpsed it in the mirror.

Her memory backtracked to a heady, sunny Saturday afternoon in the late-seventies. They were both a little drunk, having spent a couple of midday hours in the bierkeller halfway down Needless Alley, a cobbled, hilly side-street lined with small shops that sold incense, hand-crafted jewellery, and second-hand records. They were still drinking, but this time it was cheap booze out of bottles from the offy, and they were in what they called Pigeon Park but what others called the boneyard — the graveyard surrounding the cathedral smack in the centre of town.

They were happy, laughing, playing truth-or-dare when Pippa lost and her best friend Monkey— her real name was Monica — dared her to go to the closest tattoo parlour and have a tattoo. This was before the days of HIV-infected needles and over-zealous health and safety rules. Before the days when an artist refused to give you a tattoo if you looked too young, were drunk, or didn't already have at least three tattoos. Before the days of ambulance-chasers and people suing other people for even the slightest thing.

No, these were the days when a drunken seventeen-year-old could (a) be served alcohol in the first place, and (b) walk into any tattoo parlour and get her first tattoo.

Pippa & Davey Forever she wanted, on two hearts with arrows through and a scrolled ribbon linking them together. The first heart-ribbon was to say 'Pippa & Davey'; the second 'Forever'.

"Are you mad!" Monkey had squeaked. "You've only known him for a few weeks."

"What were you thinking of, then?" asked Pippa.

"Oh, I don't know. A rose, or a unicorn, or even just a heart with an arrow through. You don't have to go the whole hog."

"We've been seeing each other for a few months, actually," Pippa had replied. "He won't mind. He says he loves me."

She tried to remember the pain she had still felt despite her inebriated state at the time as the fine needle seemed to slice through the delicate surface of her young, fair skin. But, like childbirth, it was almost forgotten by now.

"Do you need a break?" asked the gruff, hairy biker, himself covered with ink on every visible part of his body.

"No ta," Pippa bravely replied. "I'd sooner get it over and done with."

"I can make you a cup of tea," he insisted. "Strong and sweet?" But she smiled and shook her head.

"I think I need one!" squealed Monkey. Even if Pippa hadn't sobered up, Monkey had.

The tattoo artist, whose name was Nathan (Tats by Nat), indicated she help herself, and she made a cuppa for him too, as he continued with his work.

Several days later, having plastered Savlon onto the scabby, itchy skin after bathing it every day, Pippa peeled the final dressing from her arm. The bleeding had long stopped and the angry redness around the tattoo had faded. She couldn't wait to reveal it to Davey…

"What the — ?" he'd blustered, scattering expletives throughout his speech. "What have you done?" He was furious. "We've only been going out for three months! Don't you know it's bad luck to carve someone's name on your body?"

His reaction frightened Pippa, but his fury was short-lived. As she burst into tears, he gathered her into his arms. "Ah well, it's done now," he said.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "Maybe it'll cover up."

Now, as she remembered, Pippa stroked a hand over the faded artwork. She never had covered it over. She should have done really, and now she contemplated having it removed altogether. She could certainly afford the laser treatment now, in her dotage, as she jokingly referred to herself these days.

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Two weeks later Pippa peeled another dressing from her arm, just as she had done all those years ago. She was eager to show her husband the result and, although he had pretended not to be, he was eager to see it too.

The old, faded tattoo had been covered over with a newer, brighter, more modern, prettier version, but with yellow and blue roses added to the ribbon scroll. The hearts were a deeper red and the outlines had been redefined with a deeper, blacker ink.

Davey's face lit up with happiness rather than turning ashen with shock as it had the first time. But then, he had at least been expecting it this time.

"It looks beautiful," he said, truthfully. "And just in time for our fortieth wedding anniversary too."

He had meant it all those years ago, when he'd told her he loved her, and they'd stayed together, married, had children, and now grandchildren. And the whole family would be celebrating with them. Even Monkey was still around, and married to Nat the Tat, with a family and tattoos of her own. Pippa treated herself to a fancy, strappy dress for the party, to show off her 'new ink', as they said these days.

It really had been Pippa & Davey Forever in that dim and drunken past.

This very short story is © Diane Wordsworth. It has been published in My Weekly, Twee Tales Twee, Twee Tales More, Flash Fiction 2, Five Third Age Short Stories, and as a standalone short story.

You can buy all of my books at www.books2read.com/DianeWordsworth

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