In 1956 my husband and I lived in Perth for some months, and that is when our continuing friendship with Mary Durack; her late husband Horrie Miller, pioneer aviator, and their family, and her artist sister, Elizabeth, began. My friendship with Mary deepened over years, often at Writers’ Weeks in Adelaide, occasionally in Sydney or Perth. The various Duracks I’ve been lucky enough to know are great Australians and from them I’ve learned more about a vast country and goodness and bravery, than from almost any other people or sources. Mary is more generous than I have room to describe here, and to her a long list of Australian writers, white and black, owe debts of gratitude for help of many kinds – some acknowledged, some taken, perhaps, more for granted than it should be.