Sydney.’
The tall glasses were nearly empty. Wyatt looked at his watch and swallowed the last of his plain black.
‘You didn’t tell us,’ Mrs Petrovitch said, looking puzzled, ‘why your friend called the young man a criminal. I mean… I can see why the young man attacked your friend and ran away if he
was
a criminal, but why did your friend
think
he was?’
‘Just what I was about to ask,’ said Wyatt, nodding away heavily. Pompous liar, I thought.
‘My friend Jik,’ I said, ‘is an artist himself. He didn’t think much of the young man’s effort. He called it criminal. He might just as well have said lousy.’
‘Is that all?’ said Mrs Petrovitch, looking disappointed.
‘Well… the young man was painting with paints which won’t really mix. Jik’s a perfectionist. He can’t stand seeing paint misused.’
‘What do you mean, won’t mix?’
‘Paints are chemicals,’ I said apologetically. ‘Most of them don’t have any effect on each other, but you have to be careful.’
‘What happens if you aren’t?’ demanded Ruthie Minchless.
‘Um… nothing explodes,’ I said, smiling. ‘It’s just that… well, if you mix flake white, which is lead, with cadmium yellow, with contains sulphur, like the young man was doing, you get a nice pale colour to start with but the two minerals react against each other and in time darken and alter the picture.’
‘And your friend called this criminal?’ Wyatt said in disbelief. ‘It couldn’t possibly make that much difference.’
‘Er…’ I said. ‘Well, Van Gogh used a light bright new yellow made of chrome when he painted a picture of sunflowers. Cadmium yellow hadn’t been developed then. But chrome yellow has shown that over a couple of hundred years it decomposes and in the end turns greenish black, and the sunflowers are already an odd colour, and I don’t think anyone has found a way of stopping it.’
‘But the young man wasn’t painting for posterity,’ said Ruthie with irritation. ‘Unless he’s another Van Gogh, surely it doesn’t matter.’
I didn’t think they’d want to hear that Jik hoped for recognition in the twenty-third century. The permanence of colours had always been an obsession with him, andhe’d dragged me along once to a course on their chemistry.
The Americans got up to go.
‘All very interesting,’ Wyatt said with a dismissive smile. ‘I guess I’ll keep my money in regular stocks.’
7
Jik had gone from the gents, gone from the whole Arts Centre. I found him back with Sarah in their hotel room, being attended by the Hilton’s attractive resident nurse. The door to the corridor stood open, ready for her to leave.
‘Try not to rub them, Mr Cassavetes,’ she was saying. ‘If you have any trouble, call the reception desk, and I’ll come back.’
She gave me a professional half-smile in the open doorway and walked briskly away, leaving me to go in.
‘How are the eyes?’ I said, advancing tentatively.
‘Ruddy awful.’ They were bright pink, but dry. Getting better.
Sarah said with tight lips, ‘This has all gone far enough. I know that this time Jik will be all right again in a day or two, but we are not taking any more risks.’
Jik said nothing and didn’t look at me.
It wasn’t exactly unexpected. I said, ‘O.K.… Well, have a nice week-end, and thanks anyway.’
‘Todd…’Jik said.
Sarah leapt in fast. ‘No, Jik. It’s not our responsibility. Todd can think what he likes, but his cousin’s troubles are nothing to do with us. We are not getting involved any further. I’ve been against all this silly poking around all along, and this is where it stops.’
‘Todd will go on with it,’ Jik said.
‘Then he’s a fool.’ She was angry, scornful, biting.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Anyone who tries to right a wrong these days is a fool. Much better not to meddle, not to get involved, not to think it’s your responsibility. I really ought to be painting away safely in my
The tall glasses were nearly empty. Wyatt looked at his watch and swallowed the last of his plain black.
‘You didn’t tell us,’ Mrs Petrovitch said, looking puzzled, ‘why your friend called the young man a criminal. I mean… I can see why the young man attacked your friend and ran away if he
was
a criminal, but why did your friend
think
he was?’
‘Just what I was about to ask,’ said Wyatt, nodding away heavily. Pompous liar, I thought.
‘My friend Jik,’ I said, ‘is an artist himself. He didn’t think much of the young man’s effort. He called it criminal. He might just as well have said lousy.’
‘Is that all?’ said Mrs Petrovitch, looking disappointed.
‘Well… the young man was painting with paints which won’t really mix. Jik’s a perfectionist. He can’t stand seeing paint misused.’
‘What do you mean, won’t mix?’
‘Paints are chemicals,’ I said apologetically. ‘Most of them don’t have any effect on each other, but you have to be careful.’
‘What happens if you aren’t?’ demanded Ruthie Minchless.
‘Um… nothing explodes,’ I said, smiling. ‘It’s just that… well, if you mix flake white, which is lead, with cadmium yellow, with contains sulphur, like the young man was doing, you get a nice pale colour to start with but the two minerals react against each other and in time darken and alter the picture.’
‘And your friend called this criminal?’ Wyatt said in disbelief. ‘It couldn’t possibly make that much difference.’
‘Er…’ I said. ‘Well, Van Gogh used a light bright new yellow made of chrome when he painted a picture of sunflowers. Cadmium yellow hadn’t been developed then. But chrome yellow has shown that over a couple of hundred years it decomposes and in the end turns greenish black, and the sunflowers are already an odd colour, and I don’t think anyone has found a way of stopping it.’
‘But the young man wasn’t painting for posterity,’ said Ruthie with irritation. ‘Unless he’s another Van Gogh, surely it doesn’t matter.’
I didn’t think they’d want to hear that Jik hoped for recognition in the twenty-third century. The permanence of colours had always been an obsession with him, andhe’d dragged me along once to a course on their chemistry.
The Americans got up to go.
‘All very interesting,’ Wyatt said with a dismissive smile. ‘I guess I’ll keep my money in regular stocks.’
7
Jik had gone from the gents, gone from the whole Arts Centre. I found him back with Sarah in their hotel room, being attended by the Hilton’s attractive resident nurse. The door to the corridor stood open, ready for her to leave.
‘Try not to rub them, Mr Cassavetes,’ she was saying. ‘If you have any trouble, call the reception desk, and I’ll come back.’
She gave me a professional half-smile in the open doorway and walked briskly away, leaving me to go in.
‘How are the eyes?’ I said, advancing tentatively.
‘Ruddy awful.’ They were bright pink, but dry. Getting better.
Sarah said with tight lips, ‘This has all gone far enough. I know that this time Jik will be all right again in a day or two, but we are not taking any more risks.’
Jik said nothing and didn’t look at me.
It wasn’t exactly unexpected. I said, ‘O.K.… Well, have a nice week-end, and thanks anyway.’
‘Todd…’Jik said.
Sarah leapt in fast. ‘No, Jik. It’s not our responsibility. Todd can think what he likes, but his cousin’s troubles are nothing to do with us. We are not getting involved any further. I’ve been against all this silly poking around all along, and this is where it stops.’
‘Todd will go on with it,’ Jik said.
‘Then he’s a fool.’ She was angry, scornful, biting.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Anyone who tries to right a wrong these days is a fool. Much better not to meddle, not to get involved, not to think it’s your responsibility. I really ought to be painting away safely in my
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