Debbie, business woman of the year 2012 and former contestant in Celebrity Small Sister, enters the Rovers, and heads over to the bar. She needs a drink after a day worrying about Kev, her ill brother, and running a chain of hotels somewhere outside of Coronation Street. She barely reaches the top of the bar and has to shout for service. Glenda pops her head into the bar when Debbie shouts, but seeing no one there, she pops back into the hall. Debbie shouts again, and Daisy looks around, finally seeing Debbie and her massive handbag.
"Debbie. What can I get you?"
"At last. I've been stood here for 10 minutes. I'll have a rum and pineapple please Daisy, only don't put any ice in it and put the pineapple in first then the rum and then the straw and finally the little cocktail umbrella."
"We don't have pineapple juice, straws or cocktail umbrellas. And we're out of short glasses, so I'll just give you some rum in a pint glass. And we have no ice so at least we will get that right for you."
"I'm meeting my brother at one to check out how his chemotherapy went. Have you seen Ken today?"
"Ken Barlow? He's next door."
"In the gents?"
"No, the house next door. He's lived there for 65 years."
"Are you sure? I thought our Kev was only 60. He can't have lived next door for more than 60 years. He's my brother you know."
"Yes, Kevin is your brother and Kenneth lives next door," says Daisy, wondering where the conversation was going.
Debbie downs the Rum and smacks her lips. She takes a whole kitchen roll out of her huge handbag, and pulls off a single sheet. She wipes her lips with it and discards it when she is done.
"Well Kenneth isn't coming so I'm off."
"But it's not one o' clock yet. Why not stay and have another drink? I'll try to crack a smile for you." Daisy attempts a grin but her smile muscles have been out of action for so long. She's putting in the effort but her mouth just can't respond. The energy is distributed across her face. Her eyes pop out, her cheeks inflate and her hair rises.
Debbie clutches her handbag more tightly. She's confused. Is it real or is this vision part of her undiagnosed dementia? Daisy looks like a wax works from the chamber of horrors. Ping pong ball eyes, trumpet-player cheeks and Van der Graaf hair remind Debbie of her own1980s dance-hall look and for a few moments she feels as if she was in the British Legion (Weatherfield) function room, and it was raining men. She delves into her gigantic handbag, rummages around and pulls out a headband in dayglow yellow and neon pink, and places it around her head. She needs to get into the groove.
"No thanks. I'm not a daytime drinker really, and as for the smile, I'd say don't bother," says Debbie, now checking out her own visage with a big, handheld mirror, also retrieved from her handbag. "I'm off to see our Ken."
Debbie leaves the Rovers, and heads directly for Ken's house. She opens the door and enters. At first she's confused by the décor. This isn't Kev's house. But then she realises that she's on the right street, and Kev lives next door to a place that sells alcohol, so she decides it is the right house. She's been having these confusing spells a lot recently. Only yesterday, just a week ago it was, she was standing in her hotel kitchen conducting cauliflowers in the honeymoon suite of Kev's garage. The troubling thing was that the garage was closed that day, so it must have been the workings of a demented mind.
Ken was surprised to see Debbie. He had been cutting out letters from the newspapers, and pasting them into blank paper.
"Now then our Kev. You can't go sending things like this to Abbie. And where's Jack today?"
"Ken, my name is Ken. And who's Abbie? Who's Jack?"
"Abbie is your wife and Jack is your son," said Debbie. "Is he back home yet?"
Ken thinks Debbie is asking if Peter has returned from his latest round the world. "He's still at sea." He tries to remember Abbie. There had been so many women. There was Val of course (electrocuted). Rita (preferred Len Fairclough). Janet (suicide). Deirdre (flirted, married, divorced, lived-with, married, died). Wendy Crozier (secretary twice). Alma, Maggie and Denise (preferred Mike, preferred Mike, preferred her brother-in-law). He couldn't remember an Abbie, but he hadn't even started to think about his tier two women (3 months or less) or his tier three women (two or three episodes, minor kisses and one-night stands).
"I'll stick t'kettle on, our Kev."
Ken remains seated. He begins to wonder if Cassie has been drugging him again. Who is this mad woman with a shockingly bright headband? She does have a fine ankle, he thinks. Those thick tights remind him of that little flirt who used to live next door. The one woman in the street that he hadn't had an affair with. "No sugar for me Emily," he says.
Debbie brings the tea tray through and lays it on the table. "Now then our Kev, who's Emily? This is me your sister Debbie."
"Debbie? I don't remember having a sister."
"Poor old soul, you are. You're getting confused. But Aunty Debbie will soon have you sorted out."
She reaches into her handbag. She rummages. She finds it. She pulls out a 12 inch knife.
"Aunty Debbie?" What was that thing called that Cassie used? Anti something or other. Was it Aunty Debbie? "What's the knife for?"
Debbie rummages in her oversized handbag again. She pulls out a Swiss roll. "I brought in a cake Kev. I knew you wouldn't have anything in. One inch or two?"
"Thanks Debbie. This is an unexpected pleasure to have you visit me like this," says Ken.
"Well 't'isnt every day that you lose a you-know-what. And besides what are sisters for?"
"Yes," he replies politely but he doesn't have a clue what a you-know-what is.
They drink their tea and eat the Swiss roll, and Debbie reminisces about their childhood, though Ken remains sure that they didn't share time together as youngsters.
Adam comes in, all brooding good looks, Scottish dourness and long tailed coat. Adam's arrival gives Ken something new to ponder on.
"Adam, this is an unexpected surprise. And a very welcome one."
"Jack," says Debbie. "You are my favourite one-footed nephew. Haven't you grown since I last saw you yesterday? Give your aunty Debbie a kiss." Debbie reaches into her handbag and pulls out a two-step ladder. She scales the ladder and plants a lipsticky kiss onto Adam's cheek.
"What are you two doing the noo?" he asks. Is his grandad having a relationship with Kevin Webster's talkative sister?
"I'm just worried about his down-belows. They cut one off, you know," replies Debbie. "Now sit down and tell me all about school."
"Och well I went to school in Scotland. It was a building in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere in a valley in the middle of a large mountain range in the middle of the country."
"Was it a middle school?"
"Och no. It was in the Highlands. It was a high school."
"Sounds lovely Jack. Our Kev must be so proud of you."
"Ah hardly ken the bloke," says Adam. "Ah cannae see why he'd be prood o' me."
"He's your father, that's why. I know you and him have fallen out recently but he loves you. He's just not very good with his praise or showing you feelings. He's had a lot to go through recently."
"Kevin's ma dad?" asks Adam. Surely Mike Baldwin was his dad? Or was Kevin servicing more than just the Jaguar all those years ago? "Ah'm confused."
"I've been confused a lot recently as well Adam," says Ken. "Cassie's been overdoing my antihistamines, and I forget things and get dizzy."
"I get confused too," says Debbie. "Last week one of my swanky hotels had a planned electric outage only I forgot, and I called out an electrician who stole my purse before sending me a massive bill. I think he beat me up too but I can't remember. His name was Mick. Or Bic, or Dick. Or it might have been Nick. No, it was Rick or Tick. Vic! It was Vic. Only he didn't beat me up. I just didn't want to worry Donnie or Jonnie or Lonnie or Ronnie or Sonny or Tony whatever he's called."
"Well, we're all confused now Debbie, that's for sure," says Ken.
"So Kevin's ma dad?" Adam asks, keen to seek some clarity in the confusion.
"No," says Ken. "Yes," says Debbie.
"Well, well, well, this is a nice little gathering isn't it Kenny?" Cassie enters the living room. She is dressed in the style of Shirley Bassey, complete with elbow length black gloves.
"I'm having one of my turns," Ken and Debbie say in unison.
"Ah dinnae ken who ma dad is," says Adam. "I need tae ken. Do ye ken who ma dad is?"
"You keep mentioning Ken," says Debbie. "This is KEV, our Kev. Not Ken."
"Daddies are forever," says Cassie.
"Kev is Jack's dad. Kenny is Adam's grandfather. Debbie is Kev's sister and I am to be the next Bond Girl," explains Cassie.
Debbie has a moment of clarity. "What am I doing here? You sit there pretending to be our Kevin, and you, ya long piece of tartan tottie are pretending to be Jack. And she's pretending to be Shirley Bassey. I don't have dementia at all. You are all conspiring to make me think I'm losing it." She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a Manchester A to Z street map. "I'll find Kevin. I'm coming to save you brother."
Cassie starts to sing, wrapping her feather boa around Ken. "Kiss me, Kenny Kenny, kiss me."
Debbie opens her handbag and takes out a Casio keyboard. "I can play Big Spender, if you'd sing that for us," offers Debbie. "I can accompany Cassie on my Casio."
Cassie beams. She loves performing. She was once on stage in the West End before Coronation Street.
Adam pours everyone a drink, and the group settle down to a few songs around the old Casio. Debbie's no longer confused, Ken enjoys the songs (and loves the feather boa) and Adam begins to warm to the idea of Kevin as his dad. He's always thought that Kevin was a bit of an oddball, but better a living oddball for a dad that having no father at all, he reasoned.
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