The Mysterious Clarissa

The referral landed on my desk on a rare slow morning and I read it, at first with mild interest, and then with increasing curiosity. Clarissa had the double barreled surname to match her aristocratic forename and had been a Barrister . She was in her fifties and the referral was for daily visits to prepare food and to help with daily tasks in her caravan...her caravan? What was a youngish Barrister doing in a caravan? I read on but there were no further clues beyond the information that she had arthritis, so I set out to do the risk assessment.
The address turned out to be a field Clarissa owned adjoining some land belonging to friends of hers, from a distance it looked idyllic with a little pond and ornamental trees and shrubs surrounding the caravan. As I approached however I could see that the van was pretty dilapidated, streaked green and generally shabby. I knocked and heard a distant shout so I opened the door - and was bowled over by a tide of small dogs and, believe it or not, two lambs. From my rather undignified position on my bottom on the floor I could see at least two more dogs, three cats and a large jolly looking woman who was regarding me with some concern and a definite tinge of amusement. "Oh dear" she said, in a distinctly upper crust accent "I was expecting somebody else so I didn't put the menagerie away. Are you alright?" I regarded my ripped tights and my scattered papers as best I could through the face washing attentions of a what looked like a small mop with legs and tried to assess whether anything more serious than my dignity was hurt, it seemed I was indeed alright so I struggled up and waded through the livestock to shake hands with Clarissa and introduce myself.
The whole place was scruffy and smelled of damp and animals but such was Clarissa's charm and warmth that I soon found myself chatting away as if sharing a sofa with a lamb was something I did most days. Clarissa kept up a stream of highly amusing and charming conversation while I filled in my forms and got no closer to satisfying my curiosity. She offered no history beyond saying that she had not been well and had made some bad business decisions but things were being resolved and she intended to have a house built on the site "when things got sorted out".
I was distracted from my form filling by a huge oil painting which incongruously almost filled one wall of the van. It was undoubtedly of a much younger Clarissa, captured in evening dress with one arm draped over the chair on which she reclined. She was not an especially good looking woman and was carrying a fair amount of weight. The painting showed that she had been handsome rather than pretty as a younger woman but the figure in the picture exuded a smoldering languid sex appeal that had me mesmerized. She saw my sideways glances and said "That was my coming out painting - I was wearing a corset that was crippling me!" I commented that she was quite a girl and she winked at me and said "You have no idea how right you are".
Time passed and the girls went in each day to Clarissa. She often had friends visiting and some days she would seem positively joyous. Other days would find her alone and melancholy though she never complained and she had every member of staff squabbling over who would go and see her, livestock and shoddy surroundings were more than outweighed by half an hour of Clarissa on form. We worried about her though, she was on lots of medication and her arthritis wasn't good even in summer. The caravan was bitterly cold in the winter and Clarissa fretted about her books which were getting damp - we fretted more about her swollen joints and her mood which was constantly low. Rumours abounded about how Clarissa had ended up in such a sorry state - she had taken to drink or drugs or both ( if so there was no evidence of it now), she had gambled, a married man had seduced her and swindled her, she had been in a mental hospital. She was always charming and forthcoming on all subjects except an explanation for her situation.
As time passed Clarissa told us stories of how the plans for her house were coming on and she would soon be out of the hated van but nothing ever happened and two more winters passed with the van and Clarissa both looking more and more desperate. Earlier this summer her social worker, who incidentally is probably one of the best I know, rang me and we had a discussion about what could be done. It was increasingly obvious that Clarissa could not do another winter. The only option seemed to be a council flat but the idea just wouldn't fly. Clarissa in a council flat, without her precious animals - it didn't seem melodramatic to say it would kill her. We came to no better conclusion but before any suggestion could be made Clarissa threw a curve ball.
She had talked to her friends and had decided that she would sell them part of her land and in return they would make one of their stables into a home for her until her ship came in and she could build on the remaining part of the field. Work started immediately on the stables and today that's what happened - a motley crew of carers carried stacks of books, furnishings and a large oil painting into a converted stable, finally assisting Clarissa herself to make her flamboyant progress across the field, scarf trailing behind her and with a retinue of tail wagging attendants dancing around her at every step. I seriously doubt they have planning permission, for a Barrister Clarissa seems incredibly naive, but the inside of the stable is cosy and smells of the wood they have used to partition rooms. A wood stove has been installed and the rooms are warm with an aristocratically shabby sofa and rugs brought out of storage making the place look homely. I don't know whether Clarissa will ever resolve whatever mystery has tied up her finances but when I left her this evening, leaning back in her chair with her stove blazing and a canine carpet reclining on the rug before it I couldn't help smiling. Clarissa isn't worried so maybe I shouldn't be either. One thing is for sure - you get to see all sorts in this line of work....