The Decoy Date

Chapter One

Why are there no good men left in the world, Imogen Jones thought to herself as a flashback of last night's horror show of a date replayed in her mind. The two and a half bottles of Chablis and half bottle of vodka hadn't been enough to help her forget the nightmare, but had been successful in giving her the worst hangover she'd had since Fresher's week at university. It was just the latest in a long line of horrendous rendezvous set up by her mother; a mother who lived to interfere and meddle in her daughters' lives.

I don't want a lot in life, just a man who loves me for who I am; if he's willing to stand outside my bedroom window with a boombox blasting out our song or wait for me outside the church after my sister's wedding with a birthday cake when everyone else had forgotten what day it was; well that was just a bonus. Sadly we can't all live in a John Hughes film; my teenage daydreaming years had taught me that. Imogen thought to herself as she looked out the window at another grey London morning, rain began pelting against the glass as if to compound her misery further.

Slumping against the counter in front of her, she ignored the sharp pain as her glasses bit into the bridge of her nose; it was more comforting than the memory of last night that was on repeat in her head. David Umbridge had seemed like a nice guy, he'd let her pick the restaurant and on the surface appeared fairly normal; not always a given with the men her mother had set her up with. She chose a little known Italian bistro called Alberto's in the back streets of Primrose Hill, near where she lived. It was her favourite place to eat in the world and had all the charm and authenticity of a restaurant situated in Rome rather than North London.

Not many people knew of the restaurant but in her opinion that only improved it, she'd stumbled upon it accidentally herself. When her parents had come to town a few years ago, she'd booked into a high-end, rather expensive French restaurant – her mother's favourite – only to find when they arrived there had been a mix up with the booking and they had no tables left. In a panic and with her mother in a terrible mood, she'd walked them a few streets over and found Alberto's. Until that moment she'd never believed in love at first sight, but the bistro was perfect and the food was the best Italian she'd eaten outside of Italy itself. Of course it was too run down and there wasn't anything her mother liked but what more could she expect from a woman who looked for the worst in everything.

Alberto's wasn't to David's taste either and he made that perfectly clear when they met outside the doorway, him being fifteen minutes late and exclaiming "Italian, Great! This day couldn't get any fucking better could it!" in the most sarcastic and offensive tone she'd heard. Imogen had felt the impulse to put her arms around the building to prevent it from hearing the hurtful comments, however thought better than to show David all her quirks on their first date.

The minute they walked through the door she regretted holding back the craziness; yes it would have found its way back to her mother through her endless grapevine of contacts and she would have made her embarrassment known, but at least Imogen wouldn't have had to spend another hour and a half in the company of a certifiable lunatic. Nothing was good enough, they didn't serve the right beer, he didn't like any of the food and when they made him a special dish with ingredients he said he liked, it still wasn't good enough for him. Imogen found herself sitting opposite a male version of her mother and drank as much as she could so as not to reach out and pull at his hair to make sure it wasn't her in disguise, examining how she acted on dates so she could give her a critique the next time she called.

When he had gotten bored of complaining about the food and she'd apologised countless times to the staff, his conversation turned towards her and the fact that she had looked younger, prettier and thinner in the photograph her mother had shown him. Deciding anger was not the best way forward she used wine to mellow it out, only to have him accuse her of being an alcoholic like his previous girlfriend had been. Completely emphasising with her, Imogen bit her tongue holding back any comment that might come across as simply a drunken slur and wished she'd told her mother where to go when she revealed she'd set her up on another date.