The Belorussians say they have agreed to say nothing to him unless Scotland

The Belorussians say they have agreed to say nothing to him unless Scotland Yard agrees.Now he believes he can only reach the end of his odyssey if he journeys to Slonim himself, to hear and question first-hand the survivors. There is another part of him which would like to let the whole matter rest. Why not leave an old man, who is not even his real father, in peace, or let the responsibility for finding out the truth rest with the authorities? Why he cannot do so is almost as much a mystery to him as it is to the outside world. It seems as though the quest for his stepfather's past is, in some sense, a quest to discover something that explains his own history, too."I saw my natural father just before he died," he says "I was surprised I'm nothing like him. Even though Stan and I were apart for so many years, I'm surprised how much like him I am - even my build and face.

People see me as his son - I don't know if it's because he's brainwashed me and I've modelled myself on him. Being a parent and being a child isn't just a biological thing.". The following dialogue contains three hidden names - first name and surname - of people featured in front page stories in the Independent this week. The letters of each occur in jumbled form, in complete consecutive words. A prize of Chambers Encyclopaedic Dictionary will be awarded to the first correct solution opened on 6 July. Entries to: Saturday Pastimes, The Independent, 1 Canada Square, Canary Wharf, London E14 5DL. "With politics, cricket and sex, it's been an interesting week." "I've smoked out Redwood, but I don't, as Clinton might say, inhale his 'elect me' message.""Or as Major would put it, no sense worrying, hit all the balls for six.""And talking of lewd acts, how will that actor chappie explain himself?""True He'll be hazy, I expect.".

"I've always been attracted to trauma," says Helen Storey. "The creative part of me is coming from a very angry place, it needs to be in conflict." When fashion designers do "conflict", they tend to mean dodgy colour combination; the "tension" of plaid against polka dot; the unbearable lightness of beading. Helen Storey, however, has never fitted in with the "think pink" brigade. At 35, she is arguably the most original, and undoubtedly the most cerebral, figure in British fashion. Last month, the designer whose "need to design is a way of expressing anger about witnessing what women are going through" sent models down the catwalk with bare bums As creative conflicts go, it was a corker. (Luckily Desmond Morris was on hand with an explanation about "the erogenous zones men and women share".) The tabloids followed the ensuing debate with close attention. Trauma of the most immediate and desperate kind has, however, dogged Storey of late. Since 1993, she has nursed her husband, the architect Ron Brinkers, through a particularly virulent form of cancer and seen her one-and-a-half million pound company, Coates and Storey, fall into receivership.

On 13 June, with the plaudits for the Autumn/Winter '95 collection still loud in her ears, Storey signed on the dole. Her case is by no means uncommon among independent designers, but it is spectacularly undeserved. In spite, or as she maintains, because of the strain of her husband's illness (Brinkers was also financial director of the company), Storey's famously erratic talent had found new focus. A bulging overseas order book, including long-standing clients, such as Madonna, Cher and Sandra Bernhard, could not shore up a depressed home market.