One Friday in the spring of 1972, as the vicar of Sandefjord was locking up his church for the day, he received an unexpected visit that made him keep his office open a little longer.

He had never seen the young woman before, but he recognized the young man. He was the eldest son of one of the most respected men in the town, a shipping magnate who was not only one of the richest men in Norway but also a staunch supporter of the church, a man whose generosity had, among other things, made it possible ten years ago to commission the huge altarpiece in roughly carved mahogany which depicted seventeen scenes from the life of Jesus Christ, an altarpiece of which the vicar was extremely proud.

The young couple had a special request. They wished to get married, but they wanted the vicar to perform the ceremony with no one else present. That in itself was not unusual, but the reason behind their request was so peculiar that at first the vicar thought it had to be a joke. Then again, he knew the shipping magnate well, knew how religious and conservative the old man was, and began to realize that the couple were indeed serious. The shipping magnate had been in poor health recently, and rumour had it that he was on his deathbed. The young man now sitting in front of him would soon inherit a huge fortune; his father, however, had attached one condition to his son’s inheritance: no outside blood could be mixed with the family’s. The woman his heir chose to marry must under no circumstances have children from previous relationships. And herein lay the problem. The young woman with whom the son of the shipping magnate was deeply in love did have children from an earlier marriage. A little girl aged two and a boy aged four. The children would be hidden away, and the vicar could then quietly marry the couple so that the bride would appear to comply with the shipping magnate’s demand, and no one would be tempted to try to discover the truth. Was that possible?

This was the plan the couple had come up with: the young man had a distant relative in Australia. She had promised to look after the children until the shipping magnate died. A year, maybe two, and then the children would be brought back to Norway. You never knew, the shipping magnate might reach the pearly gates sooner than expected. What did the vicar think? Could he find room in his heart to help them in their hour of need?

The vicar pretended to ponder their request, but the truth was he had already made up his mind. The envelope the young man had discreetly placed on the desk was fat, and why not help the young lovers? After all, the old shipping magnate’s demand was utterly unreasonable, wasn’t it? The vicar agreed to wed the couple, and the following week, in a small ceremony held in a closed church in front of the magnificent altarpiece, they were married.

Less than a year later, in January 1973, the vicar received another visit; this time, the young woman came on her own. She was clearly distressed and told him she did not know where else to turn. The old shipping magnate had died, but something was wrong. She had not heard a word about her children. She had been promised pictures, letters, but nothing had arrived, not a single word, and she was starting to doubt if this relative in Australia even existed. The woman also confided in him that the man she had married had not turned out to be what she thought he was. They were no longer on speaking terms, nor did they share a bed; he had secrets, dark secrets, things she could not make herself say out loud; she could hardly bear even thinking about them. Could the vicar help? The vicar calmed her down, assured her that of course he would help her, that he would think things over, and he asked her to return in a few days.

The next morning the young woman was found dead, slumped over the wheel in her car in a deep ravine close to the shipping family’s luxurious home on Vesterøya, outside the centre of Sandefjord. The newspapers hinted that the woman had been intoxicated while driving, and the police did indeed treat her death as a tragic accident.

After assisting the family with the funeral arrangements, the vicar decided to pay the young shipping magnate a visit. He explained, as was the truth, that the young woman had sought him out the day before the accident. That she had been anxious about her children. That something, well, that something did not add up. The young shipping magnate listened and nodded. Explained that, sadly, his wife had been very sick recently. On medication. Drinking excessively. After all, the vicar himself had seen the tragic outcome. Then the young shipping magnate wrote a figure on a piece of paper which he slid across the desk. Surely this town was too small for the vicar? Would he not be better off serving the Lord in a different location, possibly nearer the capital? The vicar rose from the chair, and that was the last time he ever saw the young and powerful shipping magnate.

A few weeks later he packed his suitcase.

He never set foot in Sandefjord again.