We Have Always Lived in the Castle

by Shirley Jackson

Why was the arsenic not put into the rarebit?

Constance, if there is one dish you prepare which I strongly dislike, it is a rarebit. I have never cared for rarebit.” “I know, Uncle Julian. I never serve it to you.”

“When I’m as old as Uncle Julian will you take care of me?” I asked her. “If I’m still around,” she said, and I was chilled.

“He thought I was Aunt Dorothy, and he held my hand and said, ‘It’s terrible to be old, and just lie here wondering when it will happen.’ He almost frightened me.” “You should have let me take him to the moon,” I said.

Sunday morning I lay there with Jonas, listening to his stories. All cat stories start with the statement: “My mother, who was the first cat, told me this,” and I lay with my head close to Jonas and listened.

I found a nest of baby snakes near the creek and killed them all; I dislike snakes and Constance had never asked me not to.

It was really too late, although I did not know it then; he was already on his way to the house.

“We’ll always be here together, won’t we, Constance?” “Don’t you ever want to leave here, Merricat?” “Where could we go?” I asked her. “What place would be better for us than this? Who wants us, outside? The world is full of terrible people.” “I wonder sometimes.” She was very serious for a minute, and then she turned and smiled at me. “Don’t you worry, my Merricat. Nothing bad will happen.”

I knew already that he was one of the bad ones; I had seen his face briefly and he was one of the bad ones, who go around and around the house, trying to get in, looking in the windows, pulling and poking and stealing souvenirs.

I had been lying on the cot at the orphanage, staring at the ceiling, wishing they were all dead, waiting for Constance to come and take me home.

It was because the book had fallen from the tree; I had neglected to replace it at once and our wall of safety had cracked. Tomorrow I would find some powerful thing and nail it to the tree.

On the moon we wore feathers in our hair, and rubies on our hands. On the moon we had gold spoons.

I could not run; I had to help Constance. I took my glass and smashed it on the floor. “Now he’ll go away,” I said.

Cousin Charles was a ghost, but a ghost

His great round face, looking so much like our father’s,

still looking like our father,

Pancakes were served for breakfast on that last—” “Uncle Julian,” Constance said, “your papers are spilling on the floor.” “Let me get them, sir.” Cousin Charles kneeled

“Charles is intrepid. Your cooking, although it is of a very high standard indeed, has certain disadvantages.” “I’m not afraid to eat anything Constance cooks,” Charles said.

“Really?” said Uncle Julian. “I congratulate you. I was referring to the effect a weighty meal like pancakes is apt to have on a delicate stomach. I suppose your reference was to arsenic.”

“We’ll let Father’s room go this morning,” Constance said, “because Charles is living there.” Some time later she said, as though she had been thinking about it, “I wonder if it would be right for me to wear Mother’s pearls. I have never worn pearls.”

“I would care, if you looked more beautiful.”

Charles had only gotten in because the magic was broken; if I could reseal the protection around Constance and shut Charles out he would have to leave the house. Every touch he made on the house must be erased. “Charles is a ghost,” I said, and Constance sighed. I polished the doorknob to our father’s room with my dust cloth, and at least one of Charles’ touches was

“Cousin Mary doesn’t like me,” Charles said again to Jonas. “I wonder if Cousin Mary knows how I get even with people who don’t like me?

“Does he always eat with you?” Charles asked once, nodding his head at Uncle Julian. “When he’s well enough,” Constance said. “I wonder how you stand it,” Charles said.

“The Amanita phalloides,” I said to him, “holds three different poisons. There is amanitin, which works slowly and is most potent. There is phalloidin, which acts at once, and there is phallin, which dissolves red corpuscles, although it is the least potent. The first symptoms do not appear until seven to twelve hours after eating, in some cases not before twenty-four or even forty hours. The symptoms begin with violent stomach pains, cold sweat, vomiting—” “Listen,” Charles said. He put down his chicken. “You stop that,” he said. Constance was laughing. “Oh, Merricat,” she said, laughing through the words, “you are silly. I taught her,”

“I don’t think that’s very funny,” Charles said. “Silly Merricat,” Constance said.

“On the moon we have everything. Lettuce, and pumpkin pie and Amanita phalloides.

I wonder if I should start the gingerbread now; it will be cold if Charles is late.” “I’ll be here to eat it,” I said. “But Charles said he loved gingerbread.”

“Old witch,” I said, “you have a gingerbread house.” “I do not,” Constance said. “I have a lovely house where I live with my sister Merricat.” I laughed at her; she was worrying at the pot on the stove and she had flour on her face.

closed the drawer and went out of the room and closed the door after me,

Charles’ hand was shaking as he held it out; I could see it shaking against the yellow of the wall behind him. “In a tree,” he said, and his voice was shaking too. “I found it nailed to a tree, for God’s sake. What kind of a house is this?”

“I could have worn it; what a hell of a way to treat a valuable thing. We could have sold it,” he said to Constance. “But why?”

“It’s worth money,” Charles said, explaining carefully to Constance. “This is a gold watch chain, worth possibly a good deal of money. Sensible people don’t go around nailing this kind of valuable thing to trees.”

“What would poor Cousin Mary do if Constance and Charles didn’t love her?”

because I hoped that the house, injured, would reject him by itself.

She was increasingly cross with me when I wanted Charles to leave; always before Constance had listened and smiled and only been angry when Jonas and I had been wicked, but now she frowned at me often, as though I somehow looked different to her.

I could not allow myself to be angry, and particularly not angry with Constance, but I wished Charles dead. Constance needed guarding more than ever before and if I became angry and looked aside she might very well be lost. I said very cautiously, “On the moon . . .” “On the moon,” Constance said, and laughed unpleasantly. “It’s all been my fault,”

“Oh, Merricat,” she said, and laughed a little. “Listen to me scolding you; how silly I am.”

I saw that he was wearing our father’s gold watch chain, even with the crooked link, and I knew without seeing that our father’s watch was in his pocket. I thought that tomorrow he would be wearing our father’s signet ring, and I wondered if he would make Constance put on our mother’s pearls. “You stay away from Jonas,” I said. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “come about a month from now, I wonder who will still be here? You,” he said, “or me?”

“Can’t you feed him or something?” Charles asked Constance. “He’s got food all over himself.” “I didn’t mean to,” Uncle Julian said, looking at Constance. “Ought to wear a baby bib,” Charles said, laughing.

I stood outside in the sunlight and looked in at him lying still in the dark room and tried to think of ways I might be kinder. I thought of him lying there alone dreaming old Uncle Julian dreams, and I went into the kitchen and said to Constance, “Will you make Uncle Julian a little soft cake for his lunch?” “She’s too busy now,” Charles said with his mouth full. “Your sister works like a slave.” “Will you?” I asked Constance. “I’m sorry,” Constance said. “I have so much to do.” “But Uncle Julian is going to die.” “Constance is too busy,” Charles said. “Run along and play.”

We should have been living like other people. You should . . .” She stopped, and waved her hands helplessly. “You should have boy friends,” she said finally, and then began to laugh because she sounded funny even to herself. “I have Jonas,” I said, and we both laughed and Uncle Julian woke up suddenly and laughed a thin old cackle. “You are the silliest person I ever saw,” I told Constance, and went off to look for Jonas.

“I could have worn this scarf,” he said irritably,

I was thinking that being a demon and a ghost must be very difficult, even for Charles;

he must be constantly on guard against betraying himself. I wondered if he would turn back to his true form when he was dead.

“But I’ll have to if I—” and Constance stopped suddenly, and turned back to the sink and the potatoes. “Shall I put walnuts in the applesauce?” she asked. I sat very quietly, listening to what she had almost said.

“Valuable?” “Not particularly,” Constance said. “My mother liked them.” Uncle Julian said, “My particular favorite was always ‘Bluebells of Scotland’; Constance, my dear, would you—” “No more now,” Charles said. “Now Constance and I want to talk, Uncle. We’ve got plans to make.”

that Thursday was going to be the last day.

one thing, at least, had been released from Charles’ spell and I thought that I had at last broken through his tight skin of invulnerability.

A demon-ghost would not easily find himself here.