28th April 1942

Darling Boy,

I’ve just landed in New York. Eleanor and Harry met me off what they think is called an ‘airplane’ (‘Well, it flies through the air, don’t it?’) and drove me straight to their little place on Long Island. I say ‘little place’ but they have clearly dug up Canada to build their garage and drained most of the North Atlantic to fill their swimming pool. I therefore made sure to chuckle loudly at all the inconsistencies in architectural style and smile in a condescending manner at their attempt to re-create Versailles in a town where they think Versailles is a type of fish. I think they got the message. Well, if you can’t insult two of your closest friends, who can you insult? Although it’s now after midnight and I’m almost as tired as their wallpaper, I’m lying on my four-poster bed and dreaming of the best ways to insult their children. Will write again when they have asked me to leave.

Kiss Hazel for me.

L

20th August 1942

Darling Boy,

Hollywood is a God-awful place. Yes, yes, all the sunshine is nice, and they seem to have pink gins coming out of their ears, but the town is full of the worst sort of harpies ready to fall backwards with their legs in the air if it means an audition. Half of them have a permanent grin like a hyena. It’s stuck on with lipstick and regular injections from a doctor, Max Jacobson, who everyone here calls Dr Feelgood. I have no idea what’s in those shots, but I have to say that after I gave one a go I was dancing from Friday night until lunchtime on Tuesday. He was telling me how he could get hold of the latest medical drugs in big quantities when a Yank officer marched over, announced that his name was Colonel Hank Dee, that he was a huge admirer of mine and that he would be honoured to take me out for a drive. I politely told the good doctor I would talk to him later about his offer and allowed Col. Dee to escort me away. You would have been endearingly jealous, as you always are, but don’t worry – the dear Colonel is sixty if he’s a day (not that that stops them over here!).

He says he’s in the Education Corps and he has all those lovely manners of the old-fashioned Southern gentleman – but behind Col. Dee’s eyes there’s a light that’s burning just a little bit too bright for the classroom, if you know what I mean. So when we were in his car, taking a nice evening drive through the hills, we chatted about Britain right now and is it true that half the House of Commons and a smattering of the idiot sons of the Lords are red to the bone? They absolutely loathe Stalin over here. As well as being a commie, they think he’s a coward for staying out of the War. Not surprising, really. And my new friend IS terribly sweet, with all that ‘Why ma’am, ah’m jus’ a simple country boy from South Carolina’ flim-flam. Do you think I should see him again?

And don’t worry, Darling Boy, I’ve only got eyes for you. Well, when I’m in London anyway. Right now there’s a charming little cornball from somewhere called ‘Iowa’ with muscles like a Studebaker car who keeps following me around. Maybe tonight will be Chuck’s lucky night!

Kiss Hazel for me.

L