Free While England Sleeps by David Leavitt

graphic descriptions of whatever gastrointestinal sufferings she was concurrently enduring. “My vexatious stomach will be the end of me,” she wrote in one particularly memorable missive.
     
    It is as unpredictable as a girl of twelve . In addition, I am plagued by an indescribable sensation —a sort of thickened feeling just behind my diaphragm. My doctor insists it is nothing—he is less than useless —Harley Street not being what it was. Suppositories do help, though.
    Are you writing? I am nearly through with Humbly Beats the Heart and—were it not for this misbehaving stomach —would have already sent it off. By the by, Edith Archibald tells me Philippa has now returned to London and has taken a job with a publishing concern. (Not my own, I hesitate to add!!) Apparently she knew Caroline at school and met you once when the two of you were children!! She is now most eager to reestablish the acquaintance.
    Now, take a deep breath, for Aunt Constance is going to scold her nephew: you are being quite tiresome, dear boy, trying to wriggle out of committing yourself to a meeting with Philippa Archibald. Naughty, naughty! Know, however, that Aunt Constance is aware of your evasive tactics and that she has your best interest at heart, as well as the memory of your poor mother, God rest her soul. Once you meet Philippa, I assure you, a change will come over you, a world of love will open. Alone, you will have only poverty and misfortune to look forward to . . .
     
    In other words, I had two choices: either go through with her little soirée or receive no financial support to speak of. Aunt Constance drove a hard bargain.
    I wrote her back and told her to pick the evening, and the next morning found in my post a check for twenty pounds.
     
    In those days before he moved into my flat, Edward came by most evenings after work anyway, full of irate passenger stories and Upney gossip. Lil, for instance, seemed finally to be recovering from her bout of influenza, though “Dad” was still in hospital. The family’s financial situation, moreover, was becoming rather strained. Because of her illness, Lil had been unable to take in sewing (her usual source of income), while “Dad,” in or out of hospital, was from what Edward told me a hopeless drunk and not to be counted on for anything. Lucy appeared to contribute nothing to the family’s finances and to get away with it unchallenged, which meant that the only income at the moment was Edward’s salary from the underground, supplemented by the paltry sums Sarah brought in doing sewing of her own. Add to that the extra stress of two small children, and the Phelans were in dire straits.
    Though I was ready to hand over to Edward a good chunk of Aunt Constance’s most recent bribe, I hesitated to broach the subject, given his reaction when I had tried to pay his cab fare that first night. I suspected he might not take kindly to this far more substantial offer. Then one evening he arrived for tea, and it was obvious from the ravenous way he ate the cakes I’d laid out that he hadn’t had a proper meal in some time. I could stand it no longer. Very delicately, I suggested that perhaps a small loan could be arranged, to be repaid in a few months. And to my surprise, he meekly thanked me and said that yes, a very small loan would be appreciated, just until Lil was back on her feet and the children off their hands, and on the condition that a contract for its repayment be written from the start. In addition, I must come to supper in Upney—he had told his family about me, and they were curious to make my acquaintance.
    A dinner was arranged for the following Tuesday evening. By coincidence, that same afternoon a deliveryman arrived with a package from Harrods: a selection of French cheeses mercurially sent by Aunt Constance and accompanied by the following note:
     
    Was shopping the other afternoon and suddenly became concerned that you might not have anything to serve at