There weren’t many streetlights in Dundle. The wide empty streets were dark, the houses and trees still. Leo pushed the pedals and tracked the ball in the sky as he rode. The only sounds were the tyres whirring along and his breathing, heavy and hard.

He rode past his house, over the train tracks and down the main street. There were streetlights here and light falling from the pubs, but no one would have noticed him streaking past or the spaceship high above. It was still a distant ball but getting closer, whirling through the dark. He reached the lagoon and kept going, over a bumpy wooden bridge to the other side. Then he stopped. The black shape of the tower loomed over him. In the dark, it looked like an enormous upturned rocket that had nosedived towards the ground, but got caught by the tangle of timber legs. He traced with his eyes the steps that zigzagged through the heart of the wooden frame. It was a long way up.

He scrabbled over the fence and landed heavily. He caught his breath and pressed his hand on one of the giant wooden legs. It was hard and rough. He scooted up the steps, his shoes thudding on the timber. When he reached the top, he was puffed again. He bent over with his hands on his knees. Waited for his head to stop spinning.

‘Leo?’

A warm growly voice came from the other side of the tower.

‘Ralph!’ He staggered around and hugged his friend. ‘You didn’t say goodbye.’

Ralph patted his back. ‘I’m still here. And I knew you’d come.’ He pulled out of the hug and swept his paw towards the view. ‘Look at this planet of yours.’

From that height, above the tops of the trees, the world was beautiful. In every direction, the land unrolled like thick rumpled carpet in the dark. A cluster of warm lights glinted from the town: bedroom lamps and TV screens, keeping people company. Up above, the navy sky was dusted with stars and the soccer ball spaceship was bigger again, about the size of the moon.

‘Is it really coming for you?’

Ralph nodded.

‘So that means—’

He couldn’t finish, so Ralph spoke for him.

‘It’s time to say goodbye.’ The words caught in his throat and the sparkly light of the moon gleamed in his eyes.

Leo sat on the balcony, holding his knees. ‘You’re supposed to stay as long as I need you.’

Ralph kept facing the sky. ‘I know.’

‘But—’

‘Listen.’ Ralph rested his paws on Leo’s shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. He sounded tired. ‘I came from Ralphora because you needed a friend. And you’ve been the best friend in the universe. But you don’t need me anymore.’

‘I do!’

‘No.’ Ralph slowed his voice down. ‘You don’t. Not anymore. You needed a friend and you’ve got one. But it’s not me. It’s Gus.’

Leo wanted to scream at Ralph and tell him he was wrong. But he knew, deep down, everything his friend had said was true. All Ralph’s thoughts and all his words, tonight and last week and all the days before, had come from the same place. They had come from Leo.

When Ralph pestered Leo to say hi to Gus, it was Leo who wanted him to stop and sit down. When Ralph had told him to kick the ball, it was really Leo’s wish. When Ralph had gazed at the strange tower, it was Leo who decided that one night they would climb it, the night they would say goodbye. In the deepest pocket of his heart, Leo knew all along that this moment would come, because he had designed it himself. They had played their old games, imagined their planets and, the night before, said their final Grimble farewells.

Now here they were, on top of the tower, watching the spaceship descend. There wasn’t much time and Leo wanted to imagine Ralph longer, to hear his voice in his head a bit more.

‘Where will you go after this?’

Ralph wiggled a horn. ‘Back to Ralphora.’

‘Will you help someone else one day?’

‘Of course. That’s what Ralphs do.’

Leo held Ralph in his eyes. He didn’t want to let go. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’ Ralph took Leo’s hand in his paw. ‘But just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not there.’

It happened quickly in the end. It was better that way. The two friends hugged on the roof. Ralph’s fur was as soft as ever and it glittered in the starlight. They held on for a minute before Leo finally let go. The spaceship eased down and hovered over the tower. It was the size of a small building, and it hardly made a sound – just a quiet hum, like a fridge at night.

From the bottom of the ship, a hatch opened and out floated a white balloon. It drifted straight down until its ribbon dangled next to Ralph. He flapped his ears and twitched his nose, then flung himself into Leo’s arms one last time. He broke off, blinked his sparkly eyes and grabbed the ribbon. He gave a final wave, and the balloon lifted him into the ship. The last thing Leo saw was Ralph’s furry foot before the hatch closed. It was the colour of a golden sunrise.