Geadais Cottage was every bit as beautiful as the letter clutched tightly in Maggie Scott's hand had described it.

She stood before the little building now and despite the bitter chill of the icy autumn rain, she couldn't help but feel excited about this new beginning. The cottage was dilapidated, its red shingled roof missing tiles and the grounds overgrown but the rose bushes that bloomed at each side of the old wooden door were beautiful; a sign of the new life she hoped to breathe into the old girl. The windows were dusty - Maggie even noticed one window was missing entirely, replaced with wooden boards but they were tightly packed enough that the elements couldn't penetrate the house. None of it upset her though: she was looking forward to beginning the renovations as soon as possible.

Geadais Cottage had belonged to her estranged uncle Francis, a reclusive man and deeply religious. She'd been shocked and confused when she'd received the letter informing her that this small cottage, tucked away in the moors of the Isle of Canna, was to be her inheritance from him. It was a beautiful gem in the Scottish islands, away from most of civilisation and the perfect place to begin her new life as a divorcee.

Above her, the low clouds darkened as the evening grey turned to indigo. Night was falling fast. Taking a deep breath, the solitary woman clutched her letter with the estate deed tightly to her breast before making her way up the leaf and moss-covered path, trundling her wet suitcase behind her. All her worldly belongings were in that suitcase: just some clothes, toiletries, some jewellery and an old photo album. She'd had enough of the abuse and had just walked away from her life. Now she was free, free as the ocean waves crashing into the coast, just over the edge of the cliff. 'Imagine, Maggie!' she thought with a smile, 'a coastal cliff in your very back garden!'.

This cottage was going to change everything.