Christmas Spirit Warms the Heart

Excerpt From: Christmas Spirit Warms the Heart

“Excuse me?” A timid male voice echoed outside her tollbooth.

She looked through the be-tinselled window and past the mini-Christmas tree and glanced down on a guy in a car. She opened her window to let in the rush of cold night air, and the spiel spewed from her lips, “Hello, there! My name is Jodi. How may I help you?”

“I’ve just come from work, and I’ve got no change,” he stammered. “Well, in fact, I have no money at all.” His cheeks flushed, and he looked down to the side of his blue Ford Escort.

Jodi got fee-jumpers coming through on a regular basis. It depended on her mood at the time as to whether she’d let them through. This fellow looked genuine enough. He was obviously embarrassed to ask, and the look of desperation in his Christmas-blue eyes seemed genuine.

“Well, since it is the season and all that.” Jodi picked up a couple coins and slipped them into the slot. The gate responded swiftly and quietly and lifted up out of the way.

“Thank you so very much, Jodi.” The man smiled as he put his car into gear. “Thanks a lot.”

The smile he flashed her was enough to make her tummy do flip-flops. Combined that with the way he actually remembered and said her name, well, she was a goner. Jodi was partial to a good crush. A bit of fantasy to make her heart pound appealed to her, and what did it matter that not one of those crushes had ever turned into something more, not even a kiss? No one wanted to kiss a weird loner like her.

That was why she worked on the toll, even though it wasn’t the most challenging of jobs a person could do. Jodi didn’t care. She just wanted to spend time by herself and read. She didn’t actually do anything much. Once or twice, she might have had to produce some change, but then, not many cars came across so late at night—at least, not through the old-fashioned pay booth.

The taxis-taking revellers to Liverpool clubs and parties zoomed through the mechanical card gates. In fact, most people used the card gates. One swipe of a special access card or your credit card and you were through, no searching for change involved. Really, the manned booth was only kept on for the older generation and those who came out without their cards. That was a small fraction of the population by day, but by night? Jodi could have counted on her hands the number of cars through most nights, and some nights, on just one finger.

So she read. She wasn’t a reading snob. She read whatever held her attention. It just happened that Jane Eyre was one of those books. Jodi had devoured books since she was old enough to recognise letters. She would read anything and everything as a child, and often begged, stole and borrowed books to feed her craving.