"Madam, look!" she says when I meet them, proudly showing me how she has tied my Grandmother's smoky blue pashmina. The solitary firm knot pulls at the delicate but supple weave in a nice way. She fits it around me and puts Matilda into it. I touch the soft wool and think of Estelle wearing it, to a wedding once, the way she put her earrings on that day and smiled at me in the mirror. I think of the day I got back from Nepal and gave it to her with a flourish. I wish I could have told her what it would one day be used for.