'I was Peter Cook's wife - that's why Dudley Moore wanted me'
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Judy Cook www.facebook.com
An extraordinary new book by Peter Cook's former wife reveals the depths of his addiction to drink, drugs and women - and how the incredible rivalry between her husband and Dudley Moore devastated their lives.
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When I fell in love with Peter Cook, I always knew Dudley Moore would be there.

The pair were like brothers, ferociously creative but also viciously competitive. What one possessed, the other wanted, too. And that, it turned out, included me.

Their rivalry was clear when Peter introduced me to Dudley.

It was as if Peter were saying: 'Isn't she fanciable? But she's mine and you can't have her.' Not that such an entreaty would put off Dudley.

Three's a crowd: Dudley Moore, Judy and Peter Cook during the tour of Australia in 1971

I first met Peter at a dinner party in 1967. He was the man of the moment, feted wherever he went after the success of the revue Beyond The Fringe, his TV series with Dudley called Not Only . . . But Also, and his part-ownership of the satirical magazine Private Eye.

I tried to look my best for the evening but all I recall now are my high boots. Peter wore a tight-fitting navy pinstriped suit and a silk shirt.

He was incredibly good-looking, with eyes so mesmerising I barely noticed anyone else. He concentrated entirely on me, too.

I was 23, petite and pretty with large green eyes and long, ruffled blonde hair. My father was a wealthy insurance underwriter; I had been a debutante and had a burgeoning acting career of my own as Judy Huxtable.

My outer confidence, however, was at odds with my inner fears. My husband, Sean Kenny, a stage designer whom I'd married in 1966, was a violent drunk and regularly unfaithful.

I felt Peter understood this, which scared and pleased me: he and his wife, Wendy Snowden, I later discovered, were living separately much of the time.

At about midnight, I said I had to go home - Sean would be phoning from Canada, where he was working. I climbed into my white, soft-top E-type Jag and Peter followed in a battered Citroen. We set off for my tiny Henry VIII hunting lodge in Cheyne Row, Chelsea.

I took Peter into the sitting room and offered him whisky. At around 3am he announced he was going to bed.

I expected him to leave, but instead he went upstairs. The house was small, so he could only mean my bed.

I managed to say: 'All right, then. I'll stay downstairs on the sofa.'

Peter called constantly over the next few days and invited me to his Georgian house in Hampstead, where he cooked scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. When we finished eating, Peter took me upstairs to a spare room with a large brass bed. He undressed and gestured for me to join him. I was captivated and vowed never to have sex with Sean again.

Although we were both busy - I was starring in a film and Peter and Dudley were writing a new series - we got together as often as possible. Fortunately for us, our respective spouses spent much of their time abroad.

Peter soon discreetly introduced me to Dudley. They were so different - Peter went to Radley College, a top public school, while Dudley was brought up in Dagenham, East London. Peter was over 6ft, Dudley barely 5ft. Although Dudley had a club foot and was quite overweight, there was something cuddly about him with a naughty twinkle in his eye - a marvellous foil for Peter.

After Peter and I had been together secretly for two months, I realised I was pregnant. Peter paid for an abortion but didn't come with me while I had the procedure. I had to get on with it by myself.

A year into our relationship, Peter told me he wanted me to leave Sean and said he would leave Wendy.

It was no easy break. Sean's behaviour became destructive - some nights he would arrive at my new flat and dismantle my car so that I couldn't drive it. Although Peter wanted to come over and stay, I couldn't risk him being there if Sean came round.

But even then there were intimations of what life would be like with Peter.

He was accused of making his family's Swedish au pair pregnant - although he admitted the affair, he assured me she was not expecting his child. He was right and I accepted his explanation that it was just a fling.

I loved Peter passionately and guessed such incidents went with the territory.

Peter on holiday in Jamaica

When I bought a mews house in Notting Hill, West London, Peter moved in. He was so easy to live with - we were like a couple of kids having a good time.

Peter used to leave love notes around the house for me, signing them with funny names such as Lord Whirleypokes or Rook the Greek.

One day in late 1969, I came home to find he had drawn a huge circle on the wall and inside had written in 2ft-high letters: 'Marry me.' I wrote underneath: 'Yes.'

While Peter and Dudley were busy on the third series of Not Only ... But Also for the BBC, I was privileged to see how the pair worked.

Peter clearly loved Dudley, but not in a homosexual way. It's been suggested that Peter was gay, but I have never believed that.

The buzz between them was highly charged: Peter was the alpha-male and Dudley a court jester.

Peter was particularly funny as Sir Arthur Streeb-Greebling and I remember an exchange where Dudley asked him about his wife. He replied: 'She blew into the sitting room with a bit of shrapnel and became embedded in the sofa and one thing led to her mother and we were married within the hour.'

A power play always started between them after a few sentences of dialogue. In their sketches, as in life, neither of them wanted the other to get the upper hand.

Peter would raise his voice and let his character become more aggressive, challenging Dudley to keep up. Peter had a cruel streak and could force you to laugh at something nasty. He likened Dudley to Preparation H, a haemorrhoid cream.

Peter and Wendy were divorced in 1971 - I was cited for adultery - just as he and Dudley prepared for their tour of Australia and New Zealand.

We were over the moon, but still couldn't marry because my own divorce had not been finalised.

Losing his balance: Peter totters on a skateboard that Judy bought for his 40th birthday

Dudley's marriage to actress Suzy Kendall was also breaking down at the start of the tour, but he took it in his stride. The three of us became a mutual support system.

The tour was an awakening for Dudley as he began to see how attractive he was to women. There was also a growing frisson between Dudley and me, which made him compete with Peter for my attention.

One of the high points of the tour was the game Peter invented that led to the creation of two of their most famous characters, Derek and Clive.

But there were low points too, especially as Peter's drinking escalated. He would start at lunchtime and after the show he drank non-stop until he fell asleep.

Our sex life suffered as a consequence, but I couldn't directly challenge Peter about his drinking because every woman who came into contact with him fancied him. I didn't want to lose him.

Dudley and I spent considerable time talking about Peter. At first, neither of us felt guilty but it developed into something quite intoxicating and pushed Dudley and me closer.

Each day Dudley couldn't wait to ask how much Peter had been drinking. Sometimes he came to our suite and we talked in the sitting room, occasionally glancing at Peter passed out on the bed.

Dudley looked at me as if to say: 'Why are you with him when he's drunk and you could be with me and I'm sober?' Now and then we hugged in the doorway.

Dudley flirted with me because he wanted anything Peter had. I knew he was wooing me, but it was too dangerous to respond. I found him so attractive that I came to love him.

It wouldn't take much for our relationship to go further but that would put me in an impossible position. Part of the eroticism between us was what we couldn't do.

Peter and Judy in New York in 1973

In Auckland, the penultimate leg of the tour, we arrived late at our hotel. Peter proceeded to down two bottles of wine and fall into a drunken stupor. Annoyed, I wandered down to the foyer where Dudley was playing a grand piano. I ordered a glass of milk from the bar and walked towards him.

Dudley looked up and asked: 'Where's Peter?' 'Out for the count,' I replied. 'Come and sit beside me.'

As he continued to play, I noticed the lift indicator ricocheting up and down. Eventually the lift opened and Peter stumbled out wearing just his underpants. Furious, he demanded to know what I was doing.

Dudley replied: 'She came down to get a glass of milk.'

Peter said: 'Come back upstairs.' I did.

A month after our return to Britain, Peter had to go to Rome for an interview. He had barely left when Dudley phoned and invited me to his flat.

After some hours, our conversation became intimate during which Dudley told me he had problems sexually. We ended up cuddling and kissing but I left before midnight.

The next day, I regretted what had happened and told Dudley to keep his distance. I was not about to destroy Peter's life.

By 1973, Peter's depression had worsened. But while he could be desperately down at home, he could charm for England when out. Glamorous women were like bees round a honey pot.

One night he was invited to have dinner with Ursula Andress, on another he saw Raquel Welch.

That year, out of the blue, my divorce came through. Sean's petition cited my adultery with Peter. I was exhilarated that at last Peter and I could get married. Six months later, Sean was dead from a heart attack and a brain haemorrhage.

Pint-sized passion: Dudley with his second wife, Tuesday Weld

Later in 1973, Peter flew to New York with Dudley to prepare a new show. I remained in England, renovating a coach house in Hampstead that Peter had bought. I suspected he would be up to no good in America.

Dudley was in a particularly good mood: he had a new girlfriend, Hollywood actress Tuesday Weld, whom Dudley would go on to marry in 1975. Born into a dysfunctional family, Tuesday lost her virginity at 11 and tried to kill herself when she was 12.

Soon after Peter had left, I had a dream about him sleeping with Tuesday, which I described to him when he rang the following day. There was a brief silence before Peter admitted it was true - but said it meant nothing to him.

Again, Dudley and Peter were driven to want what the other one had. Dudley wanted me; now Peter wanted the woman Dudley cared about.

When I arrived in New York in October, Peter also confessed to an affair with Jackie Kennedy's socialite sister Lee Radziwill.

Peter loved the pace of New York - and its financial rewards. He and Dudley were now earning £500 (the equivalent of more than £4,300 today) a week and ought to have been getting on well, but tensions were growing. Peter had written most of the show and wanted more recognition; Dudley hated Peter's drinking.

I was also worried about Peter's drug habits - uppers in the morning to make him alert and tranquillisers with alcohol in the evening to calm down. He also smoked marijuana.

One night, Peter suggested we go to Times Square. I was delighted until I discovered he was taking me to a peep show.

It was pitch black inside and initially all I could see were staring eyes. Then I noticed a nude woman standing in a glass cage on a revolving turntable. An hour passed before Peter would leave.

Country girl: Judy now leads a quiet life in a Somerset village

After a month or so I had to return to London. One day Peter rang me, sounding drunk. He said he was missing me and loved me. Suddenly, our call was interrupted by a woman's voice on the line. She shouted: 'Get your a*** out of here if you're going to call your wife on my phone.'

Peter shouted back: 'Get off the phone. I am talking to my wife.'

He then said to me: 'Judes, what am I going to do?'

I replied: 'For goodness sake, Peter, go back to your apartment.' He sounded so out of it, that instead of being cross with him I just laughed.

Despite the ups and downs, Peter and I still loved each other and I was thrilled when we married in New York on St Valentine's Day 1974. Peter joked: 'It's a date even I won't forget.'

We didn't invite Dudley because he would have brought Tuesday and I didn't want to see Peter flirting with her on my wedding day. Dudley was upset when he found out.

Peter loved us being married. It gave him confidence with Dudley because he had won the battle for me.

At the same time, I learned to cope with Peter's confessions. One evening he revealed that he and Dudley had shared the same prostitute.

Peter assured me he didn't have proper sex but I knew he was developing an unhealthy curiosity verging on the depraved. Later, I was diagnosed with an infection of the fallopian tubes which the doctor believed had been sexually transmitted.

Despite our troubles, Peter was still capable of romantic gestures. After a row in Toronto, where he was performing, I booked a flight back to London the following day. The plane was taxiing along the runway when a voice said over the intercom: 'Is there a Mrs Cook on board?'

Puzzled, I shouted: 'Yes.' The voice replied: 'Your husband requests you come off the plane.'

The plane stopped, the doors opened and there was Peter coming straight towards me. It was like something out of a movie.

When he reached me, he said: 'Please come back. Don't go home.' I couldn't refuse him and, to be honest, I didn't want to. I found him irresistible.

However, it wasn't long before our problems resurfaced. Peter was drinking heavily, starting with wine at lunchtime followed by endless vodka and beer chasers until he fell asleep.

He liked me to wake him up around mid-afternoon, the time of day I dreaded most - this was when he would stagger into the shower, turn the water on full and demand sex.

In fact, he was too drunk, but he blamed all womankind for his problem, especially me.

Peter felt impotent about every aspect of his life, from dealing with his addictions to coping with Dudley's growing rejection. By now, Dudley was planning to stay in America to concentrate on a solo career.

But I also had my own difficulties to contend with. A smear test had revealed pre-cancerous cells, requiring a biopsy to cut out the problem tissue and putting paid to any thoughts of my having a baby.

In autumn 1975, Dudley finally confirmed he didn't want to work on TV or stage shows with Peter any longer.

Peter crumbled in front of my eyes, changing from a dark, angry person to a weeping individual full of hopelessness. Perhaps he knew his drinking had caused their split but he wouldn't admit it. Instead, he insisted Dudley had betrayed him.

I kept nagging Peter to seek help for his drinking and suddenly one day he agreed. My doctor suggested he stay in a small Mayfair hotel with a nurse to look after him while he dried out.

The nurse was rather large and Peter asked for someone more attractive. When I visited him the following day, a pretty blonde was looking after him and his mood picked up. He told me he was feeling better and was going to take his nurse out to dinner.

I had been staying temporarily at my mews house in Notting Hill but, suspicious of Peter's explanation about taking his nurse to dinner, I asked a friend to come back to our home in Hampstead with me.

After we arrived, I heard footsteps and voices outside - it was Peter and the nurse. My friend and I ran upstairs and hid inside a large trunk and a vast suitcase in one of the bedrooms.

Peter and the nurse talked downstairs for what seemed like ages. Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Peter said he thought her little black lacy pants with red flowers were saucy.

Then they went quiet and I imagine they were having sex. Instead of thinking about what Peter was up to, I concentrated on fleeing the house quickly.

When I confronted him the next morning, Peter seemed impressed by my having caught him out and for a while he was nice to me.

It didn't last: it was time for another of his confessions. While making a commercial in Amsterdam in August 1976, he and Dudley had once again used the same prostitute.

I didn't know why he was bothering to admit it. I never told Peter when I later had a one-night stand with Richard Branson, who was promoting the Derek and Clive albums. (Branson was married at the time but it was regarded as an open marriage.) I am a sucker for attractive, dynamic men.

Peter made further efforts to stop drinking, booking into a detox clinic and attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but by the beginning of 1979 his old habits had returned.

So had the abuse and he was back thumping on my door during the night demanding sex.

Feeling battered mentally, I was granted an injunction allowing me to apply to court to have Peter evicted from his house. If he behaved badly, I was to ring the police and they would arrest him.

Initially, Peter was absolutely furious, but this traumatic experience also had something of a calming effect on him. I had shocked him and, in fact, he became so benign he even attended a yoga class.

Dudley, meanwhile, had been catapulted to superstardom with his hit film 10. He had become a millionaire sex symbol at 43.

Asked about Dudley, Peter told reporters: 'He has always been a power-crazed egomaniac, a kind of Hitler without charm.'

Around this time, I asked Peter if he could buy a cottage in the country where I could keep horses. He said he would think about it.

At this point, he had started going to Stocks, the notorious Playboy mansion in Hertfordshire run by Victor Lownes. I was not happy about these visits, but I put aside my displeasure a month later when Peter said he had found a place for us not far from Stocks.

He looked pleased, saying: 'I've got us the perfect cottage, and I can go to Stocks for the weekend and then come and see you. It's all sorted.'

I was happy that the cottage was within easy commuting distance of London, but when Peter was absent, I found being alone difficult. So in 1981 I moved close to my family in Somerset, where I kept horses, dogs, cats and chickens.

I did not return to our London home for a while, but when I did I noticed how grubby it seemed. I asked if anyone was cleaning it and Peter said he had a new Girl Friday.

It was left to a friend to warn me in 1983 about a newspaper story featuring a black glamour model called Sandy Grizzle, who claimed she met Peter at a party when she was 16 and that he invited her to come home with him.

This time I felt so let down by Peter that I began a relationship with a local man 15 years my junior. A younger man showing an interest in me made me feel attractive again, but no one could measure up to Peter.

I told Peter about my new relationship. He didn't say much but told me that the woman he described as his Girl Friday was called Lin Chong. She had previously worked as a PA to Victor Lownes.

Over the next couple of years, Peter and I saw each other less and less although we still talked on the phone. Many of our conversations centred on Lin.

After one call when he sounded drunk, Lin rang to say I shouldn't talk to Peter again. However, she later took to contacting me herself, particularly when she couldn't understand Peter's humour.

In 1987, Peter told me Lin wanted him to divorce - it was a long and painful business, ending in a court case four years later in which I was awarded £230,000.

I lived uneventfully with my memories until January 1995, when a neighbour rang to say Peter had died.

I had no idea he had been in hospital, let alone seriously ill. Apparently he was in intensive care for a week before his death from a gastrointestinal haemorrhage, caused by severe liver damage. He was 57.

Before we divorced, Peter had been told he had cirrhosis of the liver. I had asked what he would do if it was serious. He replied: 'Nothing, except drink myself to death because I'd be so frightened.' Dudley died in 2002, aged 66.

I now live a peaceful life in my Somerset village. I enjoy long walks in the countryside, tending my garden and reading.

I miss Peter, his humour, his intelligence and his company. I still wish I could speak to him to ask his opinion, share something amusing or just so he can make me laugh.

Peter was the love of my life and I have never been as close to anyone, before or since.

I had to learn to share him with a lot of other people because that was part of who Peter was. It was worth it, just as it was worth preserving our relationship through his affairs and addictions.

He was an impossible act to follow. I just feel lucky to have been part of his life.

• Loving Peter: My Life With Peter Cook And Dudley Moore, by Judy Cook with Angela Levin, is published by Piatkus on September 4, priced £17.99. To order your copy at the special price of £16.20 with free p&p call The Review Bookstore on 0845 155 0713.