The Goodbye Girl

The Goodbye Girl

By

Angela Verdenius

(BBW Romance)

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Angela Verdenius

All Rights Reserved

Cover images courtesy of

Getmilitaryphotos/shutterstock.com

Meysam Azarneshin/shutterstock.com

Agnes Kantaruk/shutterstock.com

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Table of Contents

Glossary

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

After Word

Bio

Other Books by this Author

Glossary

*

I found that some overseas readers were having difficulty with the Australian slang, so I thought a list of the slang I’ve used will help while reading the following story. Also, you’ll find some of our Aussie words have different spelling to the US. Interestingly enough, as I’ve grown (gracefully) older, I find a lot of our slang is bypassing the younger generation, so if a young Aussie says they’ve never heard a certain word, don’t be surprised! But trust me, I’ve used these words all my life growing up, and so have a lot of my family and friends. Does that make me an older Aussie? Heck yes! LOL

Cheers,

Angela

Australian Names/Terms/Slang

AFP - Australian Federal Police

Ambos - ambulance officers

Arvo - afternoon

Barbie - BBQ

Beaut - beautiful, awesome, great, wonderful

Berko - berserk

Bewdy - as in ‘awesome, great’

Biccies - biscuits. The same as cookies

Bikie - biker, person who rides motorcycles.

Bloke/s - man/men

Bloody - a swear word ‘no bloody good’, in place of ‘no damned good’

Boofhead - idiot, simpleton, etc. It’s an insult, though sometimes we use it as a term of affection. It depends on how it is said and meant.

Boot (of a car) - trunk

Brown nose - currying favour, sucking up. Has a cruder description, but let’s not go into that here. Means the same thing!

Budgie smugglers - men’s bathers, small, brief and tight-fitting

Buggered - many Aussie use it as a slang word for ‘broken’ (it’s buggered), ‘tired (I’m buggered), and ‘no way’ (I’m buggered if I’m going to do that). Just some examples

Bung/Bunging - as in ‘bunging onto something’, putting on something (bung veggies on a plate, putting veggies on a plate), usually in a careless or ‘easy’ manner.

Bush rangers - outlaws/thieves/robbers.

Caramel Crowns - one of Arnott’s totally awesome chocolate and caramel biscuit. Gooey yumminess!

Cark/carked - die, died.

Chips - in Australia we have cold crunchy chips from a packet, or hot chips known in some countries as French Fries

Chippie - carpenter

Crash cart - resuscitation trolley in a hospital or medical setting - used for life threatening situations such as cardiac arrest

Dander – temper

Dial - face

Dill - silly, idiot

Dogs - (as in attached to a truck) - trailers, enclosed or not, that carry goods or are empty.

Doona - like a padded quilt that fits inside a cover and lies on the bed. Can have the warmth of two, three or four blankets, etc.

Donger - penis. Also another meaning is a place people sometimes sleep in, such as ‘dongers’ on mine sites.

Dunny - toilet. When used in the terms ‘built like a brick dunny’, it refers to something built solid, unmoveable.

Fire bug - arsonist

Firies - fire fighters

Garbo/s - the person/s who drive and/or load garbage onto the garbage truck.

Gee-gees - horses

Giggle-box - TV, television

Gob - mouth

Got his/her/their goat – annoyed him/her/them

Hoon/s - person/people who indulge in antisocial behaviour. Great explanation in Wikipedia

Iced Coffee/chocolate - a milk drink flavoured with chocolate or coffee

Jumper - sweater

Kick up a stink - make a fuss, get angry

Local rag - local newspaper

Lolly - sweetie, candy

Loo - toilet

Lug - face

Milo - chocolate malt drink. Can have it hot or cold. Yummy!

Moosh - slang for face/mouth

Mobile phone - cell phone

Mozzie - mosquito

NAD - No Abnormalities Detected

Nong - idiot

Nooky - sex

Paddy wagon - four wheel drive police vehicle carries four police in the double cab and has a filled-in imprisonment section in the back to place prisoners.

Panadol - paracetamol, similar to Tylenol in the US

Pav/s - Pavlova/Pavlovas - best dessert ever!

PCYC - Police and Citizens Youth Club

Pedal Pushers - three quarter pants/knickerbockers

Porking - having sex

Primapore - sticky patch with a pad in it, a medical dressing

Pub – hotel

Quack – derogatory term for a doctor

RAC - Royal Automobile Club of Western Australia. Covers insurance, holidays, loans, etc

Red backs - poisonous spider, black in colour with a red stripe on its back.

Root - sex

Rotty – Rottweiler breed of dog.

Rubbers – condoms

Sack - bed - as ‘in the sack’ meaning ‘in bed’

Servo - service station

Shag - sex

Sheila – female

Slab – carton of beer.

Smoko - morning tea and afternoon tea break

Snaggers - sausages

Soft drink - soda, fizzy drink

Sparkie - electrician

Spider (drink) - soft drink of choice with a scoop of ice cream in it

Stiffy - erection, boner

Subbies - sub contractors

Tea - some people call the evening meal dinner. In my family, we’ve always called it tea, as in breaky, dinner and tea, or breaky, lunch and tea.

Thongs - worn on the feet, same as ‘flip flops’

Tickled pink - delighted

Tim Tams - a brand of Arnott’s Biscuits. Yummy!

TLC - Tender Loving Care

Togs - bathers, swim suit

Torch - flashlight

Toot - toilet

Tradies - tradesmen

Tucker – food

Twistie – a brand of cheese-flavoured snack food. Yummy!

Ute - small truck

Vegemite - most Aussies find this spread yummy, many non-Aussies find it too salty. Here’s the hint - if you ever have Vegemite, use it spread thinly, never thickly!

Vollie - volunteers

Wacky baccy - marijuana

Wanger - penis

Waterworks - crying

Whopper - a lie

Yamaha & Suzuki - ‘brands’ of motorcycles.

You wally - silly

Chapter 1

*

Australian Army Base

Afghanistan

*

Towel slung around his neck, Nick fingered the envelope in his hand. One look at that handwriting and he knew who it was from, just as he knew what it would say.

Only he didn’t want to read it. Not yet, not knowing what it contained.

Walking beside him, his friend, Alex Lawson, was already opening his envelope, drawing out the pale blue paper covered in the handwriting of his wife, Harly. Within seconds of starting to read, Alex was smiling.

Yeah, Alex loved his wife, and he lived for her regular letters and emails.

Nick couldn’t say that he loved the woman who wrote him letters, but he sure as hell looked forward to them. It was those letters peppered with amusing anecdotes that had gotten him through his tour of duty here, just as her letters had gotten a lot of lonely soldiers through their tours.

Alex glanced at him. Not opening it?

Not yet. Don’t want to read the words.

Alex’s eyebrows rose, the silent question in his eyes.

Yeah. Nick fingered the envelope. I know.

Mate, she knows you’re going home.

Yeah.

Alex slowed, his gaze taking in Nick’s expression. You know she only writes until you go home.

Yeah. Nick cleared his throat.

She only writes to a chosen soldier until they go home, then she gets passed to the next one.

Yeah. He didn’t want to pass the only link to a normal life, a happy life, to another soldier. Have another man laugh, open her letters as eagerly as he’d done all these long months.

Hell, he didn’t even have a photo of her. When he’d dared to ask, he’d gotten a magazine cutting of Angelina Jolie. He was pretty certain he wasn’t writing to Angelina Jolie.

Slowing to a halt, Alex studied him. You all right?

Sure.

Alex looked at the envelope clutched tight in Nick’s hand. There’s a reason they call her The Goodbye Girl, Nick.

I know.

You’re going home. This is goodbye.

I know. He couldn’t even think why he’d have a stupid lump in his damned throat. Had to be the dust in the air. Yeah, the bloody dust and heat of Afghanistan.

Those all-seeing eyes of Alex’s studied him.

Nick cleared his throat again, ripped open the envelope and took out the paper. Only he didn’t unfold it, he just stared at it.

Have you thought about who you’re going to pass her to? Alex asked.

Jonesy, I guess. Nick took a deep breath. No need for her to keep writing me anyway, right? My tour here is finished; I may not be posted back.

Alex smiled slightly. You don’t even know if you want to come back after our holiday.

True. Nick glanced around the camp at his fellow soldiers heading out on patrol, several others sitting in the shades of the huts reading, a couple heading towards the shower block he’d left as soon as he’d heard the truck pull into camp.

Army life was all he’d known since he’d joined at the age of eighteen. Seventeen years in the Army, his life, his family. He’d made a lot of friends, seen some die, waved goodbye to others who had been posted elsewhere, thinking the Army was all he needed.

Until he’d had the honour of having The Goodbye Girl handed to him by her last ‘soldier boy’, as the lucky recipient was laughingly nicknamed in the camp.

The Goodbye Girl wrote to one lonely soldier who had no family, she sent him care parcels, wrote regularly, kept him updated on the happenings back home, and made him laugh. When the time came for that soldier to return home, she bid him goodbye and her address was passed onto the next lonely soldier who had no family.

And so it had been for the last ten years that Nick knew of, and he’d been the last bloke to be The Goodbye Girl’s ‘soldier boy’, had been getting her care packages and fun letters for nine months.

Now she was bidding him goodbye.

He didn’t want to let her go, feeling as though her ghost was standing at his elbow, an elusive wisp of womanhood who had shared her life with a lonely soldier. Or as much of her life as she’d let him see. Mostly it was just amusement, little anecdotes, a lot of laughter and sympathy when required. He felt like the woman was almost tangible, just out of reach, hovering on the brink of his eyesight. He’d never seen her face, never heard her voice. She wouldn’t Skype. She did email, he had quite a collection of jokes and cartoons, some really risqué, but not once had she ever agreed to Skype. So grateful just to be in contact with her, he hadn’t argued.

She was such a part of his life, he hadn’t realised until he’d been told his tour was over and he was going home, that he was also facing separation from Bree.

Bree. Just Bree. No last name. One of her little quirks, putting just ‘Bree’ on the back of her envelopes along with a post box address that changed every couple of months

Entering the hut, Nick slung the towel over the end of the cot and dropped onto the thin mattress. So much for the refreshing shower, he was already sweating.

Holding up the paper, he ran his thumb over it.

Bree travelled a lot, that much he knew from her letters to previous soldiers that they’d shared, and from her letters to him. The postcodes never stayed the same for long.

Holding up the envelope, he studied the postmark.

Whicha. Huh. Sitting up, he pulled a box from under his cot and opened it, pulling out her letters to check the postmarks.

So many different places, never more than two in any one place. Except for the last three months. All those addresses and postmarks were from Whicha.

His heart took a little leap.

Whicha. It was like fate. Fate because it was to Whicha he was going for his leave, or most of it, staying with Alex Lawson and his wife while he tried to sort out what he wanted to do with his life, continue in the Army or seek a life outside, a civilian life.

He had a yearning to buy a home, settle down, and lead a peaceful life. Or maybe it was just that he’d seen how happy Alex was, his wife and home back in Australia, that tie, knowing someone loved him and waited for him.

He wanted that, too. With no family, the only one who’d shown him any tenderness or care was Bree.

The Goodbye Girl.

Smiling, he opened the paper. Fate.

Bree might be saying goodbye, but he wasn’t, not yet.

He just prayed she’d still be there when he arrived.

~*~

Whicha, Australia

Three Weeks Later

*

Holding a section of hair between her forefinger and middle finger, Bree carefully, quickly, and efficiently trimmed the edges. Her eyes were on the job, but her ears were listening to the conversations going on around her.

One thing you learned very quickly as a hairdresser - you became the varied clients’ agony aunt, trapped listener, and all around confident. The things people told hairdressers while having their hair chopped, trimmed, styled or dyed, was mind-boggling. The secrets they spilled made Bree sometimes mentally shake her head.

Though after fifteen years as a hairdresser there wasn’t much that shocked her anymore…a lot that amused her, yes, but shocked? Not much at all.

But this conversation was awesome. Bree studied her client in the mirror. Charlotte Harmon was all agog about the UFO sighting. How true was it?

I’m telling you, Maryanne, Charlotte insisted. I saw it.

Maryanne, who was sitting in the chair beside Charlotte while Bella applied hair colour to her hair, rolled her eyes. There’s no such thing as UFOs, Charlotte.

I’d have said so before my sighting, but now I’m a true believer. Charlotte nodded. Ouch!

Years of hairdressing experience had given Bree strong fingers; nothing escaped them when she was trimming. A woman thoughtlessly nodding while wanting a dead straight edge on her hair was no competition for Bree’s grip.

Keep your head still, Bree cautioned her. Or you’ll end up with an uneven trim.

Obeying, Charlotte watched Maryanne in the mirror. I’m lucky to still have my hair. It could have been burned off by the radiation.

A smile hovered around Bree’s lips, but Bella didn’t even try to hide her incredulity.

Radiation?

Given off by the spaceships, Charlotte explained. It can leave you with burns.

Dropping the section of hair, Bree ran her comb through it, studying the fall of the hair. Hmmmm. Didn’t you say you were about a km away when you saw a light in the sky?

Yes.

Not close enough for burns, surely?

"I didn’t say I was burned. I said that you can get burns from being too close to the spaceships."

I thought you only saw one light? Bella queried. One ship?

Maryanne winked. One buff alien with a long appendage is all you’d need.

Charlotte huffed. I know you don’t believe me. Only a true believer would understand.

Bree mentally rolled her eyes. The woman sounded like a complete dill. One light in the distance that dipped a little didn’t mean it was a UFO, and she ought to know, she’d spent most of her youth chasing sightings with her mother.

What do you think? Charlotte asked.

Glancing into the mirror, Bree saw her client staring at her, a mixture of defiance and a flash of vulnerability in her eyes.

Charlotte Harmon was a member of the blue rinse set, and that she’d even contemplate the idea of UFOs was a wonder. For her to announce what she had to everyone in the hairdresser - well, everyone being a total of four people - was a huge thing. Everyone would know once word got around.

Bree glanced at the reflections of Bella and Maryanne in the mirror, both of them smirking a little.

Oh well, why not?

Actually, she said calmly, fluffing Charlotte’s blue-tinged curls, UFO sightings aren’t uncommon.

Sure, every nut in the world claims to have seen a UFO, Maryanne shot back, adding belatedly, "Not you, of course, Charlotte.’

Charlotte’s mouth tightened, but her gaze switched back to watch Bree. Have you seen a UFO here as well?

Not here. Bree gave Charlotte’s curls a sweep of hairspray. There you go. All done.

But you’ve seen one? Charlotte persisted.

Yep.

Maryanne laughed.

Seriously, Bree added. Yes, Charlotte, I have seen a UFO, but not here.

Bella stared at her. Bree. Seriously?

Not in the least offended by the incredulity on the women’s faces, she nodded. It was one she was used to, and it didn’t bother her one little bit. Absolutely.

Where? Charlotte demanded eagerly.

I was travelling across the Nullarbor Plains quite a few years ago and we saw one in the sky. One of many sightings on one of many trips.

At night? Maryanne asked sceptically.

During the day, actually. Grabbing the broom, Bree started sweeping up the trimmed hair. Triangle shape, silver. It hovered in the air for several minutes before shooting off into the sky.

Sure it did. Bella grinned.

Maybe mine was triangular, Charlotte said thoughtfully.

Bree smiled. You couldn’t tell the shape of a spaceship at night unless it was lit up and you were close enough.

And you told us it was a light you saw from a km away, Maryanne interjected. Geez. Really, Bree? You really believe in UFOs?"

I do. Gathering the hair into a dustpan, she tipped into the little bin in the corner of the room.

You’d have to experience a UFO sighting to truly understand, dear. Patting Maryanne’s hand with a propriety air, Charlotte stood up and walked across to the counter.

Ringing up the sale, Bree gave her the change, not in the least surprised when Charlotte leaned forward to whisper confidentially, We must have a coffee soon, chat about our otherworldly experiences.

Bree smiled noncommittally.

As soon as the door swung shut behind Charlotte, Bella laughed. Oh, you are evil, Bree.

Why?

Leading Charlotte on like that.

Who said I was leading her on?

Maryanne snorted.

Tidying up the little cart contain the hair curlers, brushes, spray bottle, hair spray, clips and scissors, Bree said, I believe in a lot of things, Maryanne.

Are you kidding me?

Not a bit. Smiling widely, Bree glanced at her watch. Okay, Bella, that’s me for the day. You okay if I go now?

Well, sure. Bella looked at her. Really? UFOs?

Now me. Bree pointed at herself. "I’m a true believer. Slinging the strap of her little shoulder bag over her shoulder, she said cheerfully, Toodles, ladies!"

As the door shut behind her and she stepped down onto the footpath, Bree had no doubt that Maryanne and Bella were now discussing her and the very ludicrous thought of UFOs. It didn’t worry her. The only thing she was really interested in was checking out the area where Charlotte claimed to have seen it.

After stopping at Maryanne’s café for a Diet Coke, Bree drove out of the little town of Whicha, enjoying the scent of rain in the air and the gathering dark clouds. She loved rain, loved the autumn turning to winter. Everything was green and fresh.

She’d lived in places that were a hell of a whole lot less green and fresh.

Passing the private roads leading to the farms, Bree drummed her fingers lightly on the steering wheel. She liked Whicha, loved the small town and the friendly people, and the very vibe of it screamed home. In her childhood, she’d never lived in one place long enough to call home, the only time she had was during her hairdressing apprenticeship, and even then her mother had dragged her away whenever she had a free day or weekend on UFO and other hunts for the unexplained.

Smiling, she picked the small bottle of Diet Coke out of the cup holder and took a couple of mouthfuls. She did miss her Mum.

Coming around a bend in the road, she saw the field that Charlotte had mentioned, recognising it by the scarecrow that stood in the field. The bright red shirt was hard to miss.

Now one thing she didn’t like was scarecrows. Her nose crinkled as she grimaced.

Turning another bend, she saw the parking bay on the side of the road and pulled into it, braking the van and turning it off. Getting out, she stretched leisurely before shutting the door and walking around to the front of the van, leaning back against the warm bonnet to gaze at the surroundings.

Fields, roads, bush. Plants. Grey skies. Good view. She looked across the field. Yep, at this angle, Charlotte would have been able to see across the field to where she saw whatever the light was that she saw.

Getting back into the van, she pulled out of the parking bay and followed the country road around the field, coming out on the other side and pulling up on the side of the road. The sound of the country filled the air. Insects, the lowing of a cow somewhere, a farm house in the distance, the far off drone of possibly a two seater plane, and the soft rustle of the breeze picking up strength as it scudded through the bushes on the side of the road.

She’d have to come out tonight, see if she could spot any lights that were unexplained, but meanwhile she wanted to check if any planes had been in the sky the night Charlotte claimed to have seen her UFO.

Getting back into the van, she turned around and headed back to town. Along the way, she called in to see if Harly had finished making the tunic she’d ordered.

Oh, how she loved Harly Lawson’s house. Old fashioned, big veranda, roses, a welcoming light in the window. She planned to buy a house very similar, in fact, she had her eyes on the old house on the other side of town. It was just a matter of deciding if she was going to take the plunge and buy, settle down, do the whole live-in-one-town thing. She wanted to, needed to, had the urge to send down roots and become part of a small, happy community.

You going to be sitting out there all night?

Glancing up, Bree saw her friend standing on the veranda.

Just thinking. Picking up her shoulder bag, she held the strap in one hand as she climbed the steps to follow Harly into the house.

Did you pull a muscle?

Did you get shagged senseless?

Harly blushed, but her grin and sparkling-eyed gaze flashed over her shoulder. Yep.

And is Alex sleeping the sleep of the exhausted?

Opening the door to the sewing room, Harly led Bree inside. Alex has stamina, that’s all I’m saying.

No details?

No.

Not even a little bit?

No. Harly picked up a folded cloth bundle.

I think I can figure it out anyway, going by your bowed legs.

Laughing, Harly thrust the folded cloth at her. Get your dirty mind out of my business and try on your tunic.

Diverted, Bree shook the cloth open to stare in awe at the soft yellow tunic with the black lace around the neckline and wrists. The material was soft, warm, the neckline high to circle the throat, the sleeves long. Black lace ran down the front of the tunic from neck to hem. Oh, Harly, this is beautiful!

Try it on, Harly instructed. You can use the spare room, there’s a mirror in there. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll come in to check the fit.

Bree didn’t have to be asked twice. In the spare bedroom, she quickly slid her cardigan and work blouse off before pulling the tunic over her head and settling it down past her ample hips.

Oh, it was beautiful. Somehow, Harly had designed it so that it outlined Bree’s generous bust before dipping in to show a graceful waist before it came back out to drape over her equally generous hips and flowed down to mid thigh.

Standing side on, Bree marvelled at Harly’s sewing skills. Somehow, she’d angled the tunic enough so that even though it couldn’t help but curve over her ample derriere, the hem stayed level all the way around instead of hitching up at the back as a lot of plus-sized tops and dresses did when they had to drape over bigger-than-accepted bottoms. It would look totally awesome worn with dark leggings.

Ready, she called out, and Harly entered, standing back and studying the tunic critically.

Yeah, her friend could wield a mean needle, and her plus-size clothes were in demand by larger-than-average women from far a-field of Whicha. In fact, Harly’s sister-in-law, Cindy, was always trying to concoct some way to tempt Harly into going into the family business with her plus-size clothes, but Harly still refused, bypassing money and fame for the pleasure of making clothes personally for those who found her through word-of-mouth.

Being a big woman herself, Harly knew what faced other women when it came to shopping for clothes, and she’d gone from making her own to making clothes for those who asked her. Bree thought she was a Godsend.

Making her turn slowly, Harly studied the tunic before she nodded her head in satisfaction. All finished, Bree.

This is gorgeous. Bree admired the tunic once more in the mirror before she carefully took it off. Can I order another one? In pale blue this time?

Sure. Harly folded the tunic while Bree slid on her blouse. But first I have four other orders to do.

Yeah, but I’m your friend. Doesn’t that give me first dibs?

Harly looked at her.

Bree sighed. Sometimes you’re so fair, it’s unfair.

Grinning, Harly handed her the tunic. Want a cup of tea or something?

Thanks, but I have to get home to Sheba and Bast, see if the house is still standing. Bree winked. Besides, don’t you and Alex have plans to - you know? She thrust her hips forward suggestively.

Can you do that again? A deep voice queried from the doorway. I didn’t quite get it.

Oops. Turning, Bree saw Harly’s husband for the first time. His photos didn’t do him justice. Tall, military-short blonde hair, muscular, handsome, and so friendly she relaxed immediately. The twinkle in his eyes was an open statement of amusement at her actions.

You must be Alex. Crossing the room, she held out a hand. I’m Bree.

I kind of figured that. Grinning, Alex shook her hand.

Oh?

Harly mentioned you in her letters.

Bragging about our friendship, was she?

Ahhh…

Harly smacked his shoulder lightly. Be nice.

I’m always nice to ladies. Alex slid one arm around Harly’s ample waist, pulling her into his side to drop a kiss on top of her head. I’m especially nice to you.

Harly laughed.

Standing in front of them, Bree couldn’t help but notice the love in their eyes, the way he held Harly as though she was a fragile piece of china instead of a very hearty, generously proportioned woman.

Alex was a man in a million, no doubt about it. Harly was a lucky woman.

Then again, Harly was a lovely, kind woman, and Alex was lucky to