Lost In Translation

Consolations

The Doctor

What was she up to?

LizBeth didn't understand art, her brain wasn't wired for creativity, and yet we kept going to beautiful places, full of history and culture, admittedly, but they were some of mine and Amy's favourite places. Liz loved going to places she could regather her database, but that wasn't the Musée D'Orsay in 2010. "Thank you for bringing us, Lizzy."

"You're welcome, Wild Cat."

"You're being so nice to us, Sissy." I narrowed me eyes at her. "Why are you being so nice to us?"

Her expression didn't change, covered by her mask, so I guessed that it wasn't changing, I wasn't sure. "When am I not nice to you, Brother? After all, you are the one who raised me."

I'd peaked Amy's interest now. "Yes, but you usually have a spray bottle of water to keep him away from your console. These places you're taking us. Arcadia, the Trojan Gardens, now this. It is a little suspicious."

All she did was keep walking, curls sleek and straight for now as we listened to a passing tour guide. "Each of these pictures is now worth tens of millions of pounds, yet in his lifetime he was a commercial disaster. Sold only one painting, and that to the sister of a friend. We have here possibly the greatest artist of all time, but when he died you could have sold his entire body of work and got about enough money to buy a sofa and a couple of chairs. If you follow me now..."

"Who is it?"

"It's the Doctor." Elizabeth and I turned to follow the children running about, seeing the painting of Dr Gachet. "He was the doctor who took care of Van Gogh when he started to go mad."

"I knew that."

Amy reappeared, distracting my sister as she looked fondly at the boys. "Look. There it is. The actual one."

The Church at Auvers, the little guide book held beside the real deal. "Yes. You can almost feel his hand painting it right in front of you, carving the colours into shapes." Bethy moved in front of her for a closer look. "Uh, Sissy, we were looking at that." My head was pulled up close also. "Oh."

"What?"

"Well, just look look at that, Wild Cat." She couldn't see it. "It's something not overly good. Look at the window of the Church."

She peered close at the dragon like image. "Is it a face?"

"Yes." I agreed, putting an arm around Amy, my sisters face unreadable. But like I said, the mask didn't really help matters. "And not a nice face at all. I know evil when I see it and I see it in that window." Now went to the museum guide before my sister could stop me. "Excuse me. If I can just interrupt for just one second. Sorry, everyone. Routine inspection, Ministry of Art and Artiness. So, er."

"Dr Black."

Written on your name badge, right. "Yes, that's right. Do you know when that picture of the Church was painted?"

In came the pomp. "Ah, well, ah, well, what an interesting question. Most people imagine-"

My sister was darked eyed in her Archive, let's get the answer before she did, shall we? "I'm going to have to hurry you. When was it?"

"Exactly?"

"As exactly as you can. Without a long speech, if poss. In a hurry, racing my sister."

It sped up, but didn't narrow down. "Well, in that case, probably somewhere between the first and third of June."

"What year?"

"June 3rd, 1890. Got it."

Damn. "Your masked friend is right. Less than a year before, before he killed himself."