recruitment drive aimed at the elite young manhood of America. This is one of the
opening guns.”
“What do I have to do?” Catherine asked.
“Just see that everything runs smoothly. You’ll have final approval. You have a
reservation to Los Angeles on a nine A . M . plane tomorrow.”
Catherine nodded. “All right.”
“Will you miss me?”
“You know I will,” she replied.
“I’ll bring you a present.”
“I don’t want any presents. Just come back safely.” She hesitated. “The situation’s
getting worse, isn’t it, Bill?”
He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I think we’re going to be at war soon.”
“How horrible.”
“It’s going to be even more horrible if we don’t get into it,” he said quietly. “England
got out of Dunkirk by a miracle. If Hitler decides to cross the Channel now, I don’t think
the British can stop him.” They finished their coffee in silence, and he paid the check.
“Would you like to come to the house and spend the night?” Fraser asked.
“Not tonight,” Catherine said. “You have to get up early, and so do I.”
“All right.”
After he had dropped her off at her apartment and she was getting ready for bed,
Catherine asked herself why she had not gone home with Bill on the eve of his departure.
She had no answer.
Catherine had grown up in Hollywood even though she had never been there. She
had spent hundreds of hours in darkened theaters, lost in the magic dreams manufactured
by the film capital of the world, and she would always be grateful for the joy of those
happy hours.
When Catherine’s plane landed at the Burbank airport, she was filled with
excitement. A limousine was waiting to drive her to her hotel. As they drove down the
sunny, broad streets, the first thing Catherine noticed was the palm trees. She had read
about them and had seen pictures of them, but the reality was overwhelming. They were
everywhere, stretching tall against the sky, the lower part of their graceful trunks bare and
the upper part beautiful and verdant. In the center of each tree was a ragged circle of
fronds, like a dirty petticoat, Catherine thought, hanging unevenly below a green tutu.
They drove by a huge building that looked like a factory. A large sign over the
entrance said “Warner Bros.” and under it, “Combining Good Pictures with Good
Citizenship.” As the car went past the gate, Catherine thought of James Cagney in