How not to catch the woman of your dreams

This spirituality is often enhanced by crystal clear streams that dance and tumble over the rock. Occasionally, the water transforms itself into mini waterfalls, creating pools of startling clarity. Here dwell the truly wild brown trout.

The breathtaking beauty of Sheepfold Ghyll epitomises such places. Its location is known only to a few; human visitors are a rarity.

In the sultry days of summer, Gemma would walk up to Sheepfold, heading for a favourite cascade of cooling water and the natural slipper bath below it. At first content to immerse her feet, temptation would eventually prevail and Gemma would languish briefly in the natural mineral shower. The stresses and strains of running a busy restaurant would dissolve away. The only intrusion into her idyll was the huge trout that would materialise from the depths like a ghost. Showing no fear, it seemed to approve of its human visitor before slipping silently away. She was so amazed at the behaviour of the fish, she never mentioned it to a living soul. Every time Gemma visited the trout would appear.

Once, as she made her way home, she met William sitting upon a rock, admiring the glory of his surroundings. The two had grown up in the same village. William, eventually lured away by the call of the city, returned frequently to visit his parents. There had always been a frisson between them and they enjoyed a few moments of relaxed banter. As she left, William missed the smile that played across her face as she considered the consequences of their meeting.

The long bright days of summer gradually gave way to the mellowing colours of September. One lazy Saturday afternoon, Gemma made her way slowly along the valley, content to just dabble her toes in the now chilly water of Sheepfold Ghyll while appreciating the valley's seasonal change of mood. As she returned, she admired William's relaxed gait as he made his way towards her. Today, they sat for a few minutes to catch up on news. When they parted, there may just have been a little extra colour in Gemma's cheeks that reflected in the twinkle of William's eyes.

As she entered her dining room that evening and spotted William, alone at a corner table, Gemma felt a momentary quickening of the pulse. She slipped into the kitchen. James, the chef, looked up from his pans. "William's dinner is ready" he said. "He particularly asked that you should take it out." The warmth of the kitchen did not fully account for the flush on her face as Gemma collected the covered dish from the warming cabinet, swallowed hard and headed to the dining room.

"James is doing me a favour," William announced. "He has cooked that especially for me; I caught him this afternoon in your bathing pool." The sound of the porcelain hitting the parquet resounded across the room as Gemma stared horrified at the now faded colours of the beautiful brown tout that had so beguiled her through

that summer.

Flies dressed by Stephen Cheetham. 0113 250 7244. www.fishingwithstyle.co.ukWords by Roger Beck. 01439 788483. www.beckfisher. co.uk

CW 4/9/10