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hand.
    â€˜Well, everyone knows the birthday girl. I’m TR Hamilton.’ He touched his forehead, tugging at a mock forelock.
    Queenie attempted to withdraw her hand but found that he only held it more tightly as they moved past the throng of dancers.
    â€˜What’s the TR for? Terribly rude?’ said Queenie pulling away from him.
    TR was still smiling as he placed his hand firmly under her elbow and led her towards the woolshed door. ‘Actually, it’s for terrifically rhythmic. I’m a great dancer. Come on.’ He propelled her out the door into the coolness of the night.
    Queenie stopped, wrenching her arm from his grasp. ‘Now just a minute, where are you going?’
    â€˜We’re going dancing. Too crowded in there,’ grinned TR sweeping her lightly into his arms and moving to the music which pounded from the band inside.
    â€˜Oh, really,’ muttered Queenie as she found herself instinctively swaying in time to the music, easily following his sure lead.
    They continued in silence for a few moments and she had to admit he was a good dancer. It was also very pleasant dancing in the freshness of the night. She could feel the rough fibres of his tweed jacket where her hand rested on his wide shoulder, and there was a faint musky smell about him which made her think of freshly cut hay. He didn’t make small talk, although he didn’t seem at a loss for words. He was obviously enjoying the pleasure of dancing.
    Queenie’s heel caught on a rough patch of ground and she stumbled against him. His griptightened although he said nothing. Queenie pulled away from him and stopped dancing. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered.
    â€˜I think we should go back inside,’ she said.
    TR was about to protest but as he looked at her imperious and cool expression, he realised the haughty manner was disguising a shy and nervous girl. Gently, he led her by the arm back into the woolshed.
    â€˜I’m sure you have a long list of suitors waiting to dance with you. Thanks for the dance. I shan’t forget it.’
    He relinquished her arm just as O’Rourke came past holding two paper cups of Passiona.
    â€˜Queenie — I’ve been looking for you for a dance. Hang on till I give Sarah her drink and we’ll hit the floor.’
    Queenie turned but TR had disappeared into the crowd. She felt vaguely annoyed and didn’t understand why. She had liked dancing with him but his presence unsettled her. Strange sensations had rippled through her as he’d held her. She felt he had known the effect he was having on her and was silently mocking her. Perhaps that was what had annoyed her, but she was also concerned at the way she had no control over her body — it just seemed to follow him and melt to his will. Queenie didn’t like not being in control and the experience disturbed her.
    Firmly she put him out of her mind and followed O’Rourke back to the table where Sarah was surreptitiously rubbing one of her feet.
    Some time later, as Queenie sat with a group attempting to talk above the music, one of the boys pushed his way through the crowd, leant down and shouted in her ear. ‘Colin is arguing with one of the ringers from Kandi, it looks like it could get nasty.’
    Queenie rose to her feet. ‘Don’t let my father find out. Colin will only get into more strife. I’ll see what I can do.’
    â€˜I’m coming with you,’ said Sarah.
    Outside a small group had gathered around one of the beer kegs and Colin’s raised voice could be heard arguing with a thickset youth. Both were staggering and the watching boys egged them on.
    â€˜Let him have it. Go on, Hanlon.’
    â€˜Get in there, Richards.’
    â€˜Have a go!’
    Queenie pushed through them to stand near Colin. ‘Colin, what’s going on … don’t start a fight, it’s not worth it. Please don’t spoil my party,’ she said