“Be with you in a second!” a velvety voice called from somewhere beyond the tattooist’s chair.
A woman? The tattooist is a woman? Carmen sat on one of the sofas. Well, why not? God, and you call yourself a feminist. She shook her head at herself.
“Are you okay?” Felicity’s brow was furrowed.
Carmen sucked in a breath. “I am. Just berating myself for walking in here with a bunch of preconceptions that I really should have known better about.”
Felicity’s smile was smug.
Carmen ignored her and reached for one of the folders on the table, intrigued as to what they contained. Her eyes widened as she flipped through the pages. Every page—or rather, plastic wallet—contained a beautifully drawn template for a tattoo design. There were mythical creatures, symbols, animals, plants, landscapes, cars, motorbikes, and every single one was drawn with an attention to detail that was incredible.
“Oh, wow.” She’d come to a drawing of a phoenix, a copy of the bird that adorned the studio window. Up close like this, she could see the feathers and colours in all their glory; somehow the artist had even managed to capture the glint of triumph in the phoenix’s eyes. “God, these are so good.”
“Thanks.”
Carmen snapped her head up; she hadn’t heard the woman approach.
“Hello.” The woman held out a hand. “I’m Ash.”
Carmen stood and returned the handshake. “Hi, I’m Carmen.”
“And I’m Felicity.”
Felicity and Ash also shook hands, and Ash smiled. “Ah, you’re my eleven o’clock.”
Ash looked to be a few years younger than Carmen’s forty-three, though it was difficult to tell—her skin was smooth and young-looking, but slight creases around her brown eyes told a different story. She was about the same height as Felicity, so perhaps 5’6”. Her dark brown hair, shaved at the sides but left longer on top, flopped down to a loose, mind-of-its-own fringe. She wore a plain red T-shirt over black jeans. To Carmen’s surprise, no tattoos adorned her arms. Another preconceived notion fled.
“That’s me!” Felicity sounded like a giddy little girl. “How does this work?”
Ash gestured her back onto the sofa. “First, we have a chat about what you’d like.” She sat next to Felicity, then looked across to Carmen. “Are you getting one too? I only have Felicity’s name in the book, but—”
“No!” Carmen’s response came a little too quickly, and she grinned sheepishly at Ash’s raised eyebrows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that how it sounded.” She exhaled. “I’m her moral support. As if she needs it.”
Felicity snorted. “She’s tagging along because I asked her to. I do actually value her opinion on the design.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” Ash turned back to Felicity. “So you said when we spoke on the phone that you have a design in mind?”
Carmen liked Ash’s voice—it was calm and gentle, but it was more than that. Her natural tone was easy on the ear, just a hint of her background—east London or maybe Essex, Carmen would guess—showing through. At the same time, it definitely didn’t sound as if she was trying hard to cover up her roots. And while that meant her voice contrasted widely with both Carmen and Felicity’s more upper-class accents, Ash didn’t seem remotely bothered. Nor should she be . Carmen had lost count of the number of young actors, both male and female, she’d counselled over the last fifteen years for trying to hide where they were from with ridiculous put-on accents.
“I do.” Felicity rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I was hoping for something like this.” She pointed at all the folders on the table. “I know you have your own designs, and I hope it isn’t too cheeky to turn up with my own, but—”
Ash held up a hand. “It is totally okay to turn up with your own. Those designs in the folders are there as inspiration, but I’m always excited when a customer knows exactly what they want. It sounded pretty simple when we spoke last week, but I just need to take a look at it to see if it’s something that can be rendered by tattoo. Not everything can, okay?”
“I understand.”
Felicity handed over the slip of paper.
Carmen watched as Ash unfolded it and studied it in silence. She seemed very serious about her work, and Carmen’s respect for her climbed another notch.
“Okay, yes, this is definitely something I can do and in the timeframe we talked about. But first, some questions. Colour?”
“I’m happy with just black. I don’t think it needs anything else.”
Ash nodded slowly. “I think you’re right, but I’d suggest adding a little grey shading here and here, just to emphasise it.”
“Oh, that sounds good.”
Carmen craned her neck to look at the picture. Although Felicity had briefly shown it to her in the café a few minutes earlier, she was intrigued by Ash’s shading suggestion and how it would work.
Ash seemed to be aware of Carmen’s movement; she twisted a little in her seat and turned the paper towards Carmen.
“Thanks,” Carmen said, and Ash smiled.
Carmen stared at the picture, impressed once more with Felicity’s choice. The piece of paper had been cut from a magazine and held a photoshopped black-and-white image of a small bird escaping a dark cage and heading up towards the sun above it.
With this second, longer viewing of the picture and with the knowledge of all that Felicity had gone through in the last few months, sudden realisation dawned. Carmen gazed into Felicity’s eyes. “This…this is you, yes?”
Felicity, blinking rapidly, nodded.
“It’s perfect.” Carmen held out a hand, and Felicity took it. She squeezed it tightly for a moment before letting go.
“Okay,” Ash continued after a second or two, clearly sensitive to the moment and earning yet more unspoken appreciation from Carmen. “Next question, where?”
Felicity sat upright and placed a hand on her left hip. “Here.”
“Good, that area is a great choice. There’s more fatty tissue there.”
“I do hope you’re not calling me fat.” Felicity arched
