A sudden rush of blood to the memory

A much beloved jumper. It was one of the first things I bought with my shiny allowance, on a trip to my aunt and uncle in Oxford after my first proper set of exams. It was from the children's department of an expensive shop and it was pure silk wool. It had a sheen. No child should have worn it. The sleeves came up well beyond my knobbly wrists and sat snug over my new breasts but it worked somehow. It was a bright and pure aqua colour. Aqua is wrong. It was blue and sometimes greenish and sometimes almost yellow in how blue it was. At twilight it glowed. There were teardrop shaped pearl beads all around the waist and around the cuffs. It was a jumper like a peacock and like a peacock I preened in it. I wore it and wore it and wore it and my mother taught me how to handwash so it wouldn't be ruined. I don't remember what happened to it in the end.